Eastern Butterfly
by Lucinda
Summary: A slightly different path beginning with Psylocke's transformation to the Asian version. Contains Betsy/Logan and Kwannon/Bobby
1. Chrysalis

author: Lucinda  
Series: Eastern Butterfly Story #1 Chrysalis  
rating: pg 13  
main character: Psylocke mentions the Mandarin/Kwannon pairing  
Disclaimer: I do not own Psylocke or any other characters from Marvel   
Comics. People with more money & lawyers do.  
Distribution: please ask first, Psyknife may have it if she wants it.  
please note that this was inspired by a paragraph in a history of   
Betsy Braddock (Psylocke) that made me think 'now, what if Marvel had   
gone with that...' and should not be considered accurate to cannon.  
  
  
  
prolog  
  
They had fought against a terrible foe, one that in some ways   
was more powerful than any other that they had faced. It wasn't the   
sheer physical power that made him dangerous. They had faced foes   
with more physical strength, foes that could throw small tanks at   
them, or even ships.   
Now was this foe terrifying because of numbers, for they had fought   
hordes of sentinels without causing her this sort of reaction. No,   
this foe used magic, and she had no idea how to predict what he could   
do, how much he could warp things to go according to his wishes. He   
had collapsed walls with a gesture, and rebuilt them with another,   
thrown bolts of energy, vanished and reappeared, caused them to see   
things that weren't real. They had barely escaped from the conflict   
with their lives, and they had found their base a smoking ruin,   
destroyed while they were gone, eliminating their stronghold, the   
place where they could have regained a measure of strength and planned  
for a second effort.  
  
There had been no choice but to use the Siege Perilous again, to   
hope that they would emerge safely on the other side, that they could   
regroup and gather what resources they could. She had looked at the   
gleaming silvery frame that contained swirling colors and energies,   
it's multihued glow illuminating the still standing corner and casting  
strange shadows amidst the rubble. She didn't trust this portal. It   
almost seemed to have a mind of it's own, and the colors changed,   
sometimes causing strange scents to flow from the portal.  
  
Unfortunately, there wasn't much of a choice. She could see   
exactly three possibilities ahead of her. She could stay here, try to   
fight the Adversary, and die bravely. She could try to run away, and   
most likely be caught and killed by whatever had destroyed their base.  
Or she could go through the portal, which was supposed to be safe,   
was supposed to take her to a safe location away from here. If she   
stayed, it was almost certain death. If she went, it was only her own   
suspicion that whispered that there would be trouble.  
  
Her team-mates had already passed through, vanishing into the   
glowing lights, which today were in warm hues of gold and orange and   
yellow-white. She could no longer sense their minds, no longer feel   
the comforting presence of her team. She was once again alone in a   
ruined area, somewhere that she could be broken and shattered, her   
body ruined. Old memories made her shudder, and she made her decision   
in that moment. She would not let her fears paralyze her again.  
  
She stepped into the portal, the bright golden light flooding   
her senses, causing the world to dissolve into light and a soft   
thrumming noise that reminded her of the ocean tides heard from   
underwater. It overwhelmed her, and she felt herself falling, and the   
last thing she knew, she screamed into the light, feeling her body   
spinning and falling. Darkness seeped in behind the light, and Betsy   
knew no more.  
  
  
end prolog.  
  
  
  
The sun had not yet cleared the horizon, although it's nearness   
was announced by the soft pinks and lavenders that had crept up into   
the sky from the east, reflecting soft hues onto the soft waves that   
lapped against the coarse sand. The sea was subtle, and few of those   
who admired it's rippling beauty would realize that the sea was a   
deceptive and thieving thing, stealing a bit more of the shore with   
every season, the beach would slowly shrink, and the sands would move   
ahead, eventually encroaching into what was no farmland. But the sea   
was beautiful, and so mankind did not want to understand the danger,   
the encroachment of the sea's domain, or the way that it could kill.  
  
It reminded him of his precious Kwannon, beautiful, graceful,   
and deadly. He could watch her for hours, admiring the grace of her   
motions, the sleek rippling of her muscles, the sway of her hips and   
her long hair. She was his most valuable person, more dear to him   
that his closest blood kin. She was Kwannon, his lover, his   
indulgence, and his most skilled assassin.  
  
She was not graceful now. She had been the victim of a terrible   
accident, and she was currently in his home, her body shattered,   
sustained only by a host of expensive and delicate machines, even her   
mind lost to him, claimed by unconsciousness. Modern medicine could   
do nothing for her, he had already had the finest and most costly   
experts examine her, almost begging in his desperation. They had all   
told him the same thing: there was no chance of a recovery, and even   
survival, aided by machines, was a chance, possibly only a matter of   
days.  
  
Only one voice had said otherwise, that of the demon woman   
Spiral, a being from beyond the edge of this world and the next, and a   
woman creature not from this earth. Spiral was a ruthless creature,   
with few scruples that he had ever known of. She was capable of   
making changes in people's form, changes far beyond the ability of the   
finest medical experts of this world. He had asked her if there was   
anything that could be done for his Kwannon. After a careful exam,   
Spiral had frowned, telling him that there were very few things that   
she would even be able to try that would permit Kwannon to live again,   
even fewer that would permit her to live in her current form.  
  
She had sworn to him that it would be possible to change   
Kwannon, to rebuild her broken body using parts of steel and exotic   
alloys, taking the broken form of his assassin and returning her as a  
cyborg, functional, but no longer the sleek, supple woman whose body   
he had so delighted in. She had also said that there was another   
possibility, a way to return a living woman of flesh, but it would   
require another woman, one whose body was not broken, one whom he   
found attractive.  
  
He had not asked what the other woman would be for, if the life   
of someone else would be the price of Kwannon's return to him. It   
didn't matter. If he could, he would sacrifice a woman, a dozen women   
to have his Kwannon back. But there were no suitable women to be   
found. If they were anywhere near young enough, they were not   
healthy, or attractive. He had gone to the beach, to walk and pray,   
asking fate or the ancestors, or any power that would listen to give   
him a way to save Kwannon.  
  
There was something on the beach, just at the edge of the tide   
line. Some portion of driftwood, or discarded trash perhaps... But   
something caused him to move closer, to look at the object carefully.   
This was no branch of wood or discarded trash. The form of a woman lay   
on the sands, her long hair being occasionally lifted and rearranged   
by the water, her curves revealed by a close fitting garment of   
purple. Looking carefully, he determined that she still breathed,   
that her pulse was steady, and while her features were undeniably   
those of Europe, she was actually pretty, in a foreign sort of way.  
  
Nothing appeared to be broken. She was not too young or too   
old, perhaps close to the age of his Kwannon. She was attractive,   
with richly feminine curves and long hair that would undoubtedly look   
better dry. She was perfect, and with the discovery of her half   
drowned form, his Kwannon had a renewed chance to live. Spiral could   
use this woman for whatever arcane process was required to restore his   
Kwannon. Carefully, he lifted her from the water's edge, and began   
carrying her back to his home, back to where Kwannon was waiting,   
hooked to many machines that were all that kept her from dying.  
  
Spiral could use this woman, could restore Kwannon to health.   
She had assured him that it could be done, his lover returned to him,   
still soft flesh and blood. As loyal to him as she had been before.   
He carried the strange woman into his house, her dangling hair drying   
over the walk, revealing its color as a soft lavender. Placing her   
on a couch, he began the summons that would bring Spiral to him, would   
enable him to ask for Kwannon's life.  
  
For his beloved, he would strike a deal with a far less   
attractive and forgiving demon. How fortunate that Spiral could grant   
him what he wanted. All it would cost was the life of this lavender   
haired woman. He hadn't built his empire by being squeamish.  
  
There was a shimmer in the air, and a figure slowly came into   
focus, a pale form dressed in a close fitting jumpsuit of pale blue,   
two of her arms gleaming silver, the other four pale flesh. Spiral,   
the six-armed witch woman from beyond the edges of the earth had   
appeared in his house, answering his summons. She looked at him, her   
strange pale eyes, almost as sliver as her arms, looking at him.  
  
"I see you have another woman on your couch. Shall I take that   
and this summons to mean you want Kwannon restored to you in health   
and flesh? No matter the cost or consequences?" Her voice had a   
strange accent, and rang with hints of authority and power, and a   
trace of amusement. She was looking at the lavender haired woman, a   
faint and calculating smile on her face  
  
He looked at her, standing there, the fading distortion in the   
air almost making him dizzy. He took a deep breath, forcing himself   
to be calm. Right now, he needed Spiral, and he was certain that she   
knew that. "Yes, Spiral. Restore my Kwannon. I do not care what the   
price may be, so long as she is returned."  
  
Spiral walked over, looking at the stranger on the couch, and   
her expression changed, becoming a smile that hinted at dark pleasure,   
and of some blow struck against some being that had angered her in the   
past. "I think that with this woman, I can arrange something that   
will make you a very happy man, Mandarin.  
  
end part 1.  
  
  
Spiral looked thoughtfully at the lavender haired woman, before   
speaking again. "Pick her up. Then, we will go to the room where you   
have Kwannon, and I will transport us to my Body Shoppe. The   
procedures that I will be using are demanding, and I will not be able   
to give you an exact date for her return, but it shall be done. I   
think.. I might even be able to give you a pleasant surprise or two."  
  
They progressed into the room of medical devices, humming and   
beeping around Kwannon's unmoving form. The bruises had mottled her   
skin to an unflattering mess of blue and purple-red swelling, and   
there were numerous cuts and scrapes that had been deemed to small to   
bandage. The machines still beeped regularly, she was still alive, or   
as much as she could be in that moment. He stood beside her, looking   
at her slender body, the grace and strength invisible, all he could   
see was her pain.  
  
Spiral began gesturing, and moving in an oddly graceful pattern,  
almost like dancing, and the room began to blur, and gradually,   
everything outside the small circle of machines blurred into nothing   
more than pale light, and slowly resolved itself into something else.   
This new place was still brightly lit, although it was a colder bluish   
white. Metal and glass gleamed everywhere, and there were large vats   
and tanks with tubes, and in one tank, there was a body floating, with   
a swarm of tubes going into his body, and a small constellation of   
lights monitoring things at the base of the tube.  
  
Immediately, a group of technicians and medical experts swarmed   
them, and before Mandarin could offer the faintest objection, they had   
removed Kwannon from the hospital bed, and they were lowering her into   
a tank filled with a pale fluid, and fitting her with an assortment of   
tubes and a few patches, including a fine mesh of wires and electrodes   
over her head. The tubes in place, a small mask was fitted over her   
mouth and nose, and the tube was placed on a horizontal base, and more   
of the pale substance, more of a thick gel than a fluid oozed in from   
the end, covering her form, like a fly trapped in amber.  
  
Spiral looked at him, a cold smile flickering over her face. "Do   
not worry, Lord Mandarin. You will have your lover and assassin   
returned to you when I have finished. I will.. what is the phrase? I   
will send you a bill when everything is completed and calculated."  
  
After making certain that both women were properly settled into   
tubes and both fitted with the networks of electrodes over their   
heads, Spiral returned Mandarin to his home, leaving him to ponder   
things, or fuss with his empire of criminal activities, or whatever he   
cared to do with his time. That really didn't matter to Spiral. He   
was a customer, and if he ceased to have an interest in the options   
that she could provide with her shop, there were always others who   
would be.  
  
She remembered this one, this lavender haired woman. Betsy   
Braddock, a telepath from this earth, or another like it... the   
particulars were unimportant. Mojo had found her once before, tried   
to use her in a plot to gain himself power. She had escaped from   
Mojo, although she couldn't have done it without help. The woman had   
displayed unnecessary amounts of ethics, far more than any sensible   
person needed. Mojo had been furious about her disappearance.  
  
Mojo had not left a favorable impression on Spiral. He'd had her  
created, but he'd made her a freak. He'd trained her so that she   
could be his tool, his pawn and willing slave. She would not be   
anyone's willing and expendable pawn. Eventually, she had won her   
freedom, and had opened her body shop. She rebuilt people, sometimes   
merely having flesh repaired, other times altering them, adding   
cybernetics or altering the metabolic function. She had just been   
given a unique opportunity, not only could she try a few of the more   
exotic techniques, she could ensure that Mojo could never use the   
Braddock woman again.  
  
Revenge was sweet. She could ruin the woman for future   
usefulness to Mojo, and with the same series of procedures, dispense   
with the woman's wasteful ethics, essentially remaking her.  
  
"Let me know when the dark haired human's body has regenerated   
sufficiently. We will be performing a neural transfer, and remap the   
minds of the two onto the other. Dark hair will wake up in the   
lavender one's body, and Lavender will have the exquisite experience   
of waking up in a body that's been broken. Again. Be sure that they   
both survive, the dark haired body is contracted for return, and I   
have plans for the other one.  
  
end part 2.  
  
  
  
She awoke, and could feel herself immersed in something, her   
body entirely surrounded by ... something. It felt like some sort of   
fluid, chill and wet and slimy against her skin... her bare skin. Her   
eyes opened, and she could feel her heart pounding with confusion and   
fear.  
  
There was light, a bluish white light that made its way through   
the whatever she was in. She was in some sort of tune, filled with   
the slimy feeling whatever that was not water. She could feel   
herself, and a faint feeling, almost surprise made her think that   
something must have happened, some sort of traumatic injury that had   
wounded her terribly. She hurt, although it was a slightly dulled   
pain, as if it were far away. She could tell where her limbs were in   
relation to each other, and she rubbed her fingers against her thumb,   
feeling the wrinkles that had formed on them, wrinkles from being in   
this tube full of.. something.  
  
Her head was throbbing, and felt as it had been opened up, and   
things had been poured in, and shaken, and then stirred some more, and   
possibly emptied out afterwards. She couldn't remember who she was,   
or how she had come to this place. Had she been here before? Was   
this a place that she should recognize?  
  
There was movement outside the tube, and a figure approached. A   
pale form, a woman with white hair and six arms, two of which gleamed   
metal. There was a vague feeling, that she should know who this   
person was, that this woman's presence should tell her something.. it   
troubled her. Six Arms was looking at her, or perhaps at the tube,   
and she spoke, although her words were to distorted by the tube and   
fluid to have any meaning, there was a sound to them, and then she   
felt something warm enter through a tube, and everything went dark   
again.  
  
* * * *  
  
When she woke again, she was on a table, and there were bright   
lights all around her. Her bones felt strong once again, although her   
muscles still ached. She realized after a moments confusion that she   
was being given a simple medical examination.  
  
They told her that she was going to be sent home, to be   
reunited with her lover, who had been very worried about her. She was   
to gradually rebuild her endurance, because she had taken some time   
healing, and might have lost some muscle tone. A glance showed that   
her limbs were sleek and graceful, supple muscle over bone, no traces  
of fat on them, which had once been a great concern to her when... she   
groped for the memory, but it's shadow had vanished, leaving her with   
nothing more than the feeling that she had worried about her weight.  
  
With one of the people in white clothing assisting her, she managed   
to dress herself in the loose fitting clothing, flowing silk in dark   
blue. She didn't recognize the clothing, but had no difficulty   
putting it on, as if her hands and fingers remembered what her mind   
did not...and walked with a minimum of swaying and staggering out the   
door, her pride refusing to allow herself to stagger, or to show how   
much she was depending on the aide to help her balance.  
  
There was a man there, pacing slightly, handsome, his dark hair   
neatly cut, but slightly mussed, as if it had happened while waiting   
here. The waiting area was not welcoming, having a dull gray carpet,   
stark white walls, and gleaming metal chairs. He was the only thing   
in the room that spoke of life and color and a world apart from tubes   
and gels and machines... and she didn't know him. He turned, looking   
at her and the aid, and his face changed from an expression of   
impatience and worry to a delighted smile.  
  
"Kwannon, my love. You are well again. Come, I will take you   
home." His voice was a pleasant tenor, and she was positive that he   
knew her, that this was the lover that they had mentioned.  
  
end part 3.  
  
  
  
She had been taken home with her lover, Mandarin. She couldn't   
remember him, but she discovered that her feet knew his home, knew how   
many steps and how high, knew which floorboards creaked. There was a   
room with lovely furnishings.. she felt no connection to it but the   
clothing in the wardrobe fit her perfectly. She found herself looking   
into the mirror, and wondering who was the woman staring back at her,   
a lovely asian woman with long hair and dark eyes.  
  
She had dyed her hair, rendering it a deep purple that was   
almost black, and that had felt better, as if it was something set   
right, although her lover had frowned slightly. She had exercised  
with him, and he had watched her form as she moved through patterns,   
moves that she didn't remember learning. Wherever she had picked them   
up, they had been well studied, learned down to her muscles and bones,   
and she felt herself moving through the demanding motions gracefully,  
with only minimal difficulty.  
  
Those sessions, which would start with him helping to make   
certain she didn't over exert herself would often end in passionate   
lovemaking. She couldn't deny that he knew her body well, knew   
exactly how to bring her great pleasure.. or that her body knew his,   
and exactly how to make him wild for her. She could feel him, as her   
strength returned, hear the whisper of his thoughts.  
  
She learned that she was his most skilled assassin. He had   
given her the title of Lady Mandarin, and with her at his side, there   
was nobody that could shake his empire. She found her skills were   
there, and a little practice made that perfectly clear. Her lover had  
even felt her healed enough to send out for some very simple   
assignments, easy kills with nothing particularly difficult about   
them. The memories were more difficult, and she had only re-gathered   
fragments and pieces, mostly from the time that she had been with her   
lover.  
  
They were both startled when she began to show telepathic   
abilities, to hear what someone intended to say before the spoke, to   
project her words to him across the house. She had never been   
telepathic before... at least, her lover had never known her to be   
possess such abilities. They could only conclude that it was some   
strange benefit to her treatment in Spiral's shop.  
  
The knowledge of how to control these 'new' gifts seemed to flow   
out of her shadowy memory as well, as if she merely had to remind   
herself of an old skill. She could sense people in her area, 'see'   
things with her eyes closed, know if someone spoke the truth or lied   
to her. She could also use her power to hurt, and had visualized this   
as if she were stabbing a knife into them... and glimmering faintly   
around her hand had been a shape of energy, faintly purple and shaped   
like a crude knife.  
  
A bit of experimentation proved that if felt almost the same as   
if she stabbed a knife into someone, but left no physical marks. Some   
practice enabled her to refine her psychic blade into something a bit   
less sloppy, a bit more refined. Something as elegant as the knives   
and blades that she used in her work.  
  
It was the oddest thing. She was starting to remember her life,   
although that could have simply been an effect of her lover and some   
of his most trusted people telling her about her past as much as they   
had. They spoke of her family, now dead. How she had become an   
assassin and worked her way to prominence, and become a trusted aide   
to Mandarin. They spoke of the skill and dedication that she had for   
her work, telling her theses things over and over until they seeped   
into her, and she could tell the stories with them. Occasionally   
though, she would have these odd dreams, where she was someone else,   
sometimes London, sometimes another place, with a large western style   
mansion, talking to people that she knew... only she could never   
remember who they were once she awoke. She couldn't remember ever   
knowing a kindly bald man in a wheelchair, or a dark skinned woman   
with white hair and the bearing of a queen that could summon clouds   
with a thought...  
  
Her love was disturbed, she could feel him across the garden.   
Something was bothering him, causing him concern and worry. A   
person... this one was old trouble, and had been spotted in somewhere   
far away, a potential threat to the fringes of his empire. "My love,   
who is troubling you? Is it someone that you wish eliminated?"  
  
He looked up at her, startled that she had known what he was   
thinking. "He is known by several names. He is in Madripor, and in   
that place, he is called Patch. It would bring me great pleasure if   
you could remove him for me, my lovely one. I will have the   
arrangements made for your travel immediately... or perhaps.. we could   
delay the arrangements for a short while?"  
  
Her sensual smile answered his own, and the travel arrangements   
were set in motion later.  
  
end part 4.  
  
  
  
Madripor felt almost familiar, as if she had been there  
during one of the gaps in her memory. There was a blending of elements  
from the world of the east and the world of the west. There were  
skyscrapers in the respectable district, but the blending of cultures was  
strongly evident here, in the west quarter. Many of the faces showed that  
cultural blending in their very features, having mixed ancestry from both  
the east and the west, or from places where their ancestors had been far  
darker, the lands of Africa. There would be an eastern style building,  
standing next to a western box building, and both would be edged with  
flickering neon lights. There were even a few people whose features looked  
entirely European, and to her surprise, she found that she could read their  
expressions as easily as those of more eastern ancestry.  
  
Mandarin would not have been pleased with this place. She was  
aware, in that way that meant she couldn't quite recall where or how she  
had learned something, that her lover was something of a genetic purist,  
having a strong distaste for mingled ancestry from the rest of the world.  
It didn't seem to bother her, although none of the details that she had  
been told of her life gave any indication that she should have such an ease  
in dealing with the sight of so many of the west. It seemed that she did  
not share her lover's distaste for the western world.  
  
She was here to find the man called Patch. He had been  
described, as a short, stocky man with dark hair, not the glossy black of  
the east, but a less reflective color, almost like soil made from ashes.  
His eyes were pale, although there had been a bit of question if they  
were a light blue or if they were gray. He was supposed to have very broad  
shoulders, making him very stocky, and she'd been cautioned that he was  
a fierce brawler, although he was not known for use of any particular  
style. He was of wholly western ancestry, at least as far as anyone could  
tell from looking. He wore worn clothing, soft flannel shirts and faded  
jeans, and this dreadful… hat. He was also, her sources had firmly agreed,  
easily identified by the cigars that he smoked, some sort of imported  
monstrosities, thick and particularly pungent.  
  
Once she found him, she was supposed to kill him. She was  
cautioned that she would need to be particularly ruthless in this task,  
the man had proven himself either very lucky or resistant, and had not  
fallen victim to any poison that had been attempted. He also recovered  
quickly from attacks, so it was suggested that she hit him hard, and fast,  
and make certain that the body was destroyed when she was finished.  
  
She had found herself a temporary residence in a small hotel,  
using just a touch of her newfound psychic ability to ensure that the  
proprietor would not remember her face. She would be able to search for  
this Patch now, to find where he was staying, where he went during the day,  
what hours he kept. Once she knew that, it should be a simple matter to  
plan his demise.  
  
Eventually, her careful searching paid off, and she caught  
sight of the man at a slightly shabby looking establishment named the  
Princess Bar. They had said he was of western ancestry, but they hadn't  
warned her that he was so hairy. The man's hair had shaped itself or been  
shaped deliberately into two peaks, reminiscent of the tufted ears of a  
wild cat. He moved something like a wild beast as well, all rolling  
muscles and a sense of power and a lazy grace. There was an old battered  
hat perched atop his head, slightly displacing the hair. He was pacing  
along the bar, apparently thinking about something, and as he walked he  
left a trail of smoke from his cigar. The scent of it was very strong, not  
quite the same as any cigar that she had encountered before, yet it seemed  
oddly familiar to her.  
  
She took a seat along the wall, not actually in a corner, but out  
of the main floor area, out of the main light. Something told her that the  
dim light should not be a problem, as if some buried part of her thought  
she should be able to see in the dark. Well, with her new abilities, she  
very nearly could see in the dark, but something insisted that this was not  
the same. She watched him, trying to learn the shape of his body as he  
moved and paced, so that she would recognize him again, even if she only  
glimpsed a sliver of his form around a corner.  
  
There was something about him… something intense and almost  
magnetic. It wasn't the shape of his features, because while his face was  
not ugly, it was nothing particularly special, he was neither ugly nor  
handsome, having features that on any other man would be western and  
blandly forgettable, with the exception of that hair. It was the man  
himself, his personality and energy that lent him an odd sort of appeal.  
She could see the courtesans, the hired companions watching him, their eyes  
sliding over his rippling muscles and following his pacing form, could feel  
their interest in the sound of their thoughts.  
  
He was entirely male, without the faintest shadow of doubt, and  
he carried a sense of power and vitality. This was an alpha male, a  
powerful man with an intense energy and a sense of vibrancy and power.  
They were wondering if that intensity would carry into the bedchamber, if  
he would be as primal a lover. They had little trouble imagining him with  
his clothing off, and there was some jealousy and thought as to the nature  
of the relationship between him and the girl that had come in with him.  
  
She examined the images of the girl in their minds. A teenager,  
perhaps fourteen at the oldest, dressed in worn jeans, a bright pink shirt,  
and a yellow coat. The girl was obviously of mixed ancestry, the shape of  
her proclaiming the east, her blue eyes speaking of the west. Young, yes,  
but wary, watching in the way of someone that knew the streets, someone  
that understood the laws and behaviors of the lower classes of society.  
She watched the girl carefully, trying to determine what the relationship  
between them actually was. The girl didn't watch him as a woman watches  
her lover, with longing eyes and soft sighs. If anything, she watched him  
as if her were her parent, or some other protector, someone to keep her  
safe from the dangers that stalked the streets.  
  
Lord Mandarin would probably want the girl eliminated as well,  
simply to be cautious. She looked like she would try to fight. The girl  
moved with a small degree o confidence, enough that she probably knew some  
measure of fighting, but she didn't have the smoothness of motion that  
spoke of intensive training. The girl would be easy enough to take down.  
Perhaps if she took the girl down first as a distraction?  
  
She followed them, carefully avoiding drawing attention to  
herself. It would be wise to know where they were staying. It might be  
simplest to strike while they slumbered, instead of attacking on the  
street. Not only that, but it would give her more time to watch them,  
more time to form an idea of their abilities.  
  
End part 5.  
  
She had been watching them for several days. They didn't have  
much of a pattern, although they tended to sleep during the nights, from  
perhaps midnight to near dawn. The man would often accompany the girl,  
who seemed to want to see everything, to shop, to see everything. She was  
apparently named Jubilee. The girl acted as if the man was some sort of  
protective uncle, an older protector, but not her father. If possible,  
she wanted to leave the girl alive. Jubilee seemed as if she would be able  
to manage on the streets, possibly able to get herself away from Madripor  
after her guardian's demise.  
  
Following them, she waited for an opportunity. She wanted the  
man, and a quiet moment somewhere fairly isolated. Her opportunity came  
that night. He had returned the girl to the small hotel that they were  
staying at, and then gone back out. It seemed that he intended to meet  
with someone or go somewhere that he thought would be unsafe for the girl.  
She followed, waiting for her moment. It came after his meeting, when he  
found the main road blocked and detoured through a small alley.  
  
She followed, making her passage as silent as her skill permitted.  
When the moment seemed just right, she dropped down, twisting her body so  
that the impact would be entirely absorbed by the man patch, and the point  
of contact would be her knife. Not the one from her mind, but one of  
sharp steel. She felt the impact jarring though her body, even as her  
knife sank into his body, caching slightly on his collarbone and shifting,  
tearing at the muscles and tendons. He wasn't as stunned as she'd hoped, in  
fact, the impact and wound seemed only to anger him, and the next thing she  
was aware of was his fist connecting very hard with her jaw, knocking her  
off of his body as he heaved himself up from the alley.  
  
There was a deep, rumbling growl filling the alley, causing the  
hairs on the back of her neck to rise in a silent warning that this was  
danger, this was the sound of a dangerous predatory beast. She looked up,  
and realized that the growl was coming from the man, his eyes almost  
gleaming in the darkness, and his teeth bared in a feral expression,  
showing that his canines were longer than normal, sharp and menacing in the  
dull and fragmented light of the alley. She attacked, a flurry of punches  
and kicks, most of which he evaded or blocked, and she could not see that  
the others even had any effect beyond making him angry.  
  
Frantically trying to think of a way to bring this man down, even  
if only long enough to escape, she readied her other blade, the one formed  
purely from her will, and as he lunged for her, she stabbed it into his  
mind, 'pushing' with her will. She didn't expect what happened next.  
She felt 'herself' follow the blade into his mind, felt the cascading crash  
of memory fragments that washed over and through him, almost as if she was  
this man, Patch/Logan/Wolverine.  
  
She felt herself standing naked in snow, surrounded by pine trees,  
aware of everything in the small valley.... Fought some unknown man in  
a cage located in some little nothing bar for money... felt searing pain  
while trapped in a glass tune... nonono both minds recoiled from that  
memory fragment. He was aware of her mental presence now, could feel her  
inside of him.  
  
He wasn't a normal man. She could sense everything as he sensed  
it right now, caught in this unexpected and unplanned union of minds, he  
could hear things happening blocks away, smell everything, his nose almost  
painting a picture of what had happened in this alley today, could see  
clearly in the darkness, smell her anxiety and confusion, feel the bruises  
that she had given him vanishing, the knife in his shoulder itching as the  
wound tried to close, prevented by the weapon still lodged, the hilt  
catching on the bone. She knew that he could sense what she sensed, feel  
the mental presences of the nearby people, the sleeping minds flavored  
with dreams, the need/dismay/hopelessness of the nearby whores, the  
lust/contempt/need of their costumers ...feel the pattern of his mind/her  
mind.....  
  
He knew the touch/flavor/scent of her mind. He knew her and the  
identity came screaming into her mind from his BetsyBraddock/Psylocke  
images of a woman with lavender hair, friend, teammate, stepping into a  
portal where's Betsy didn't she come out? Need to find her... He had been  
searching for her, and now he had found her only she didn't know who she  
was, looked entirely different, but the touch of her mind was the same...  
  
She jerked herself out of the rapport, feeling the connections snap  
and recoil, pain lashing through her mind. He knew who she was, and it  
wasn't Kwannon. Something inside her mind knew the truth of his thoughts,  
knew that somehow she was Betsy Braddock, knew that this man had been her  
teammate, that she had never been an assassin, never been Mandarin's  
lover.. not before the glowing portal of golden light.  
  
The woman, Betsy/Kwannon, collapsed to the ground, harsh sobs of  
confusion and betrayal wracking her body, as her mind attempted to make  
sense of everything. She knew that his recognition of her was accurate,  
that she was the telepath Betsy Braddock, upper class Englishwoman and  
X-Men. But Betsy had not looked like this, had never worn this face... how  
could she have this face if she was Betsy? Why had Mandarin lied to her if  
she was Betsy? Who was Kwannon, and why did she have her face?  
  
Dimly, she was aware of Logan helping her to her feet, leaning on  
him as they moved away from the alley. Then, there was a bed, soft  
blankets and gentle darkness, and she surrendered to exhaustion.  
  
end part 6.  
  
  
  
She awoke, fragments of memories drifting through her mind,   
memories of herself with lavender hair and blue eyes, living among the   
X-men, fragments where she was watching the lavender haired woman,   
aware of every scent... For a moment, she couldn't remember where she   
was, or how she'd gotten here. Why was she sitting in a small room   
on a slightly shaky bed with warm blankets that smelled of a man, and   
faintly of cigar smoke?  
  
She remembered, as the sleep cleared from her head. Logan had   
brought her back with him. She'd tried to kill Logan, her teammate,   
and he'd brought her back to his hotel room, let her sleep in his bed.  
She could remember bits and pieces from her life before, her time   
among the X-Men and her youth in Britain. She had been gone for a   
long time.. had Logan been searching for her all that time?  
  
She pulled the blankets around her, feeling oddly comforted by   
them, by the scent of Logan that was on them. What would happen to   
her now? She had been an X-man, but.. she had been Mandarin's   
assassin, his lover... she could still remember the feeling of his   
hands caressing her body.... which was not her own body. How had she   
ended up like this, with someone else's body, living another's life?   
Would the real Kwannon show up, wanting her life back? Was there even   
a real Kwannon? If she had been real, what had happened to her?  
  
She was still sitting there, curled into the blankets when the   
door opened. Logan's voice came in, alert and friendly. "I thought   
you might be hungry, so I got us both some breakfast."  
  
In his hands was a tray, laden to nearly overflowing with   
breakfast. Fruit and juice and eggs... the quantities of food were   
substantial. They shared the tray, and between the two of them, there   
wasn't anything left over. She had been very hungry.  
  
"What happens to me now? I.. the past few months.. or however   
long I was ... away. I haven't exactly been leading the life of an  
X-Man. What will they say? How do I explain what happened when I   
don't even know...." Her voice faltered, her doubts growing the more   
she thought about it.  
  
He looked at her, his hand tilting her chin up so that she met   
his eyes. "You don't have to tell them any more than you choose. All   
I intend to say is that I found you here, and you seem to be healthy   
enough, physically. If you don't know.. hell, I know exactly how that   
one feels. Just tell them that you don't know what happened. You   
don't have to tell anyone anything about the past five months unless   
you want to. But, Bets... I want you to know something. If you need   
someone to talk to... about having your memories taken, about being   
altered and your life toyed with.... I think I'm qualified to listen."  
  
She considered what she could remember of Logan, what he could   
remember of himself. He had been in a brutal program called Weapon X,  
a program that had resulted in his past being taken from his memories,   
his bones being laced with metal, and terrible nightmares. They had   
discovered that many of the fragmentary memories that he had were   
artificially created, implanted in his mind for unknown reasons by a   
forgotten authority.   
Yes, Logan would certainly be able to listen to her if she wanted to   
talk. And he would be there, a comforting, silent presence if she   
didn't want to talk.  
  
Perhaps, with his help, she could rebuild her life. Or possibly   
build a new one from the fragments and ashes of her old life, or   
lives. She would at the very least be a better fighter than she had   
been before. Logan would help her, he would be there as support for   
her if she needed someone, and he would not try to reshape her, to   
force her into a set pattern.  
  
end part 7. End Chrysalis. 


	2. Homecoming

Author: Lucinda  
Series: Eastern Butterfly Story #2 Homecoming  
rating: pg 13  
main character: Psylocke  
pairing Betsy/Logan  
Disclaimer: I do not own Psylocke or any other characters from Marvel   
Comics. People with more money & lawyers do.  
Distribution: please ask first, Psyknife may have it if she wants it.  
note :words between colons: represent telepathic contact.  
  
  
  
  
They had collected Jubilee, who had met her before, when she was   
still lavender haired. The girl had taken it easily, saying that   
there was nothing wrong with a little change now and then. She hadn't  
mentioned how close she had been to killing or wounding the girl in   
order distract Logan, thinking that it was not the sort of thing you   
say to someone that you've practically just met. Especially not if   
you wanted them to like you.  
  
There had been a few minor matters to finish up, such as the   
collection of their luggage, not that any of them had been traveling   
with a great deal of that. Logan arranged their travel, and they   
boarded a small chartered plane, reserved for 'the Lee Family'. They   
seemed to think that she and Logan were a couple, and that Jubilee was   
their daughter. She was quite certain that she didn't look old enough   
to have an almost fourteen year old daughter, but didn't say anything.  
  
The idea of Logan as her husband... that gave her a very   
unsettled feeling, but she couldn't exactly say that the idea bothered   
her. He was loyal, resourceful, and seemed very intense. He wasn't   
exactly handsome, but surely she had enough good looks that their   
children wouldn't suffer for it... and now she was letting her mind   
get ahead of things. She and Logan were not married, they weren't   
even betrothed.. engaged... not even really a couple. They certainly   
weren't planning on children, although she had a suspicion that he   
would be a very good father.  
  
She spent much of the flight back in the appearance of rest, but   
her mind was searching through her recollections of the past several   
months, trying to determine what had happened, how she had become the   
assassin Lady Mandarin. She had a fuzzy memory of being in a tube of   
something cool and slimy, of looking out and seeing a woman with six   
arms. She thought that this might be important, and so she waited for   
a moment when the girl was asleep, and then spoke to Logan.  
  
"I have a bit of memory that might be a clue. I woke up, in   
some sort of tube, filled with something cool and slimy. There was   
this woman outside of the tube... she had six arms, and two of them   
looked silver. I think I should know who she is, but I can't remember   
a name for her. The next memories I have are being sent 'home' with   
Mandarin...." She kept her voice low, not wanting these words to be   
overheard, not wanting the girl to wake up to this conversation.  
  
Logan looked at her, chewing on one of his cigars, which was not  
lit. "Her name is Spiral. She was created by a character called   
Mojo, this extra dimensional guy. Power hungry, thinks life is just   
like a television station, and he keeps slaves to make his shows, and   
they can live or die for all he cares, unless it affects his ratings.   
Far as we know, she isn't there anymore, but... Spiral is definitely   
trouble. She can alter people, make men into cyborgs. She must be   
responsible for this new look of yours." His eye flickered over her,   
following the line of her figure, and he smiled slightly. " I like   
the new look."  
  
Unexpectedly, she felt herself blushing. How did his simple   
statement of appreciation cause so much of a reaction? When had she   
become so aware of him as a man, and not simply a teammate? Suddenly,   
she found herself wondering if Logan had a girlfriend, if he really   
had a wife somewhere, if there was the faintest chance that this ruse   
of theirs could in some day become truth.  
  
She tried for a while to remember, and then another thought  
occurred to her. She needed an answer, and unfortunately, her still   
patchy memory wasn't giving her one. "Logan?"  
  
He looked at her, apparently seeing the questions in her eyes.   
"If you want to ask, go ahead. I'll answer if I can."  
  
Taking a deep breath for courage, she spoke, uncertain what she   
wanted the answer to be. "Was I dating anyone? Were you? Are there   
going to be jealous people waiting for us at the airport?"  
  
Logan chuckled, apparently not expecting to be asked about that.   
"I wasn't dating anyone. You'd had a few casual dates, nobody from   
the team, but nothing serious. You'd said something about a bad   
breakup before you left England, and there hadn't been any serious   
relationships since then. Can't say if there was anyone in particular   
that you'd had your eye on, you're the telepath, not me. Nobody's   
going to be meeting us at the airport, jealous or otherwise."  
  
Feeling oddly relieved, she smiled and settled back into her   
seat, content to drowse the rest of the trip.  
  
end part 1.  
  
  
  
  
Logan was speaking again as they walked towards the long term   
parking garage, luggage in tow on one of the little carts that the   
airport had. "After Australia, everyone sort of debated, and there   
was a lot of arguing over safety considerations, and eventually, the   
agreement was to come back here, to New York. We got a place here,   
the mansion of Charles Xavier, and while there isn't quite the same   
feel as the base down under, it blends in a bit more with the   
neighborhood."  
  
Jubilee spoke up then, clearly impressed by the mansion.   
"There's a swimming pool, and a big greenhouse with all sorts of   
flowers that this nice lady tends, and huge gardens. We've got a   
lake, and this big wall around the property and the Professor had all   
sorts of devices built into the place... it's pretty cool."  
  
Half buried memory stirred, giving a few images to Betsy,   
things that went with the description that Jubilee were giving. A   
woman with dark skin and bright blue eyes and long white hair tending   
deep purple flowers, a man with ice glistening over his body shaping   
snowballs by a lake.. a bald man sitting in a wheelchair. She had   
been there, had spent time at this place they were mentioning. There   
were other images that she tried not to explore, a big blonde man with   
sharp claws and pain.... a man with wings telling her that she wasn't   
part of the team..  
  
She had been to this mansion, she could remember, at least a   
little bit. But she thought it might be best to get a bit of   
clarification on who some of the faces in her memories were. The less   
reason that they had to doubt who she was the better, which meant that   
the girl, Jubilee - she must get in the habit of using her name,   
should have as few reasons to question her identity as possible. But   
there was a benefit to being a telepath, she would be able to ask   
Logan without Jubilee hearing her.  
  
Tentatively, she reached towards him. :Logan? Can you help me   
match names to faces? I remember images from being here, but it would   
be good to be certain I can use the right names...:  
  
He twitched slightly, a movement of surprise. He hadn't been   
expecting her to whisper into his mind. Startled or not, he didn't   
feel angry. Words formed at the surface of his mind, but were not   
placed into her thoughts. :Show me the images and I can let you know   
who they are. You just read the names from my mind. I've been told   
that I shouldn't try to project, it sends to much.. the Professor   
called it background static, the stuff going through my mind. Gives   
him or Maddie fits, worked the same for Jean.:  
  
With a smile, she 'tossed' the images to his mind, like casting   
breadcrumbs or grain to a pool with fish. Names floated up, matching   
themselves to the faces. The woman with the dark skin was Ororo/Storm   
and controlled the weather, the bald man was Professor Xavier, and a   
powerful telepath, the founder of the X-Men. The snowball maker was   
Bobby Drake, and there was a more recent image of him as well. Images   
and names matched themselves, and finally, she let the image of the   
clawed blonde man float to Logan's mind, part of her knowing that   
Logan would know who he was.  
  
The cascade of impressions and memory fragments that met that   
image immediately showed her what the Professor had meant by   
'background static' in Logan's mind. Images of the blond man in   
various places, committing various violent acts, in the costume she   
remembered, in normal clothing, a few fuzzed memories of him in   
military combat clothing... Sabertooth/Victor Creed nogoodbastard   
gonnakillhim... the scent of him and the sound of his heartbeat filled   
her mind...  
  
She pulled her mind away with a jerk, feeling an almost   
overwhelming rage and desire to kill Sabertooth flooding her body.   
She tried to slow her pulse, to calm her breathing. Sabertooth was not   
here. She could remember now, the first time that she had met him,   
the massacre of the Morlocks, how he had come to the mansion and   
nearly killed her. That had been here at the mansion as well.  
  
She had managed to calm herself by the time they arrived at the  
mansion, a very respectable looking building made from red brick,   
manicured grounds and a fountain spraying water into the air like   
sparkling crystal.  
  
Gathering her nerve, she got out of the car with Logan and   
Jubilee, and tried to prepare herself to go inside and meet the people   
that she could remember knowing.  
  
end part 2.  
  
  
  
  
Her return to the mansion brought a feeling of familiarity.   
She had been here, she knew where everything was, even if she didn't   
quite remember learning it all. They walked into the mansion, and   
settled on a couch in a room clearly intended more for comfort than to   
impress people. The furniture was still in good shape, but it showed   
signs of wear, and not everything matched. There were magazines on   
the table in an untidy spill, a fashion magazine, two on health,   
although one was clearly a scientific publication, There was a   
magazine on cars, and another on travel.. clearly, this was a room   
you were supposed to feel comfortable in.  
  
Logan settled himself on the couch, right in the middle, and   
spread his arms out towards the sides, as if saying that this was his   
couch. Jubilee had gleefully gone to change and enjoy the pool, so it   
was just her and Logan. Smiling, she settled onto the couch, shifting   
slightly so that she could rest against Logan's body. As she did so,   
she discovered something wedged between the cushions of the couch.  
  
A dozen possibilities crossed her mind about what the object   
could be, and now curious, she reached in to pull out the object,   
touch telling her that it was a slender book of some sort. She pulled  
it out, wondering what secret volume had to be hidden from view. As   
it came into the light, it took her a few seconds to process what it   
was, the sideways position not helping.  
  
It was a romance novel.  
  
A slender, feeble plotted book whose sole purpose was to   
describe perfect looking people with nice lives in picturesque   
locations indulging in passionate sex. Turning it over, she saw the   
cover, with a buxom blond in a green bikini smiling at a dark haired   
man in a towel. This was not what she had expected. The giggles   
escaped from her, mostly against her will, and she collapsed against   
Logan, the book shaking slightly in her hand as she laughed. Clearly,  
it had been hidden merely to save the reader from being caught at   
their secret reading choice, their spot marked by a page corner folded   
about two thirds of the way through the book.  
  
Logan caught her hand, mainly to keep the swinging book from   
connecting to him, and inhaled the scent, then he started laughing as   
well. They were laughing so hard that their eyes were watering, and   
it was relaxing them both. Such a simple, harmless amusement.  
  
It was the sound of their laughter that caused the others to   
discover their return. A sound from the doorway caused Betsy to look   
up and over to the doorway to the room. Scott and Ororo and Warren   
were there, staring in at the two people on the couch, their eyes wide   
with surprise.  
  
end part 3.  
  
  
  
  
The first person to speak was Ororo, her voice filled with  
curiosity. "Logan, who is your companion?"  
  
Logan smiled slightly before he replied. "Let me introduce Betsy  
Braddock. Seems she had a bit of a make-over while she was  
elsewhere."  
  
The resulting confusion was almost amusing. The fact that they  
were mutants did increase the range of possibility, but even a mutant  
makeover didn't normally change someone from a light haired Caucasian  
to an Asian several inches shorter. Ororo was clearly torn between  
joy to see that Betsy was alive and well and confusion as to how she  
could have changed so drastically in appearance. Scott and Warren  
were suspicious, she didn't look anything like the Betsy Braddock that  
they had remembered. How could she be the same person? Why should  
they trust this woman?  
  
The confusion was almost amusing for a few moments, but it very  
quickly lost any entertainment value that it may have had. There was  
concern over how this change could have happened. Her identity was  
questioned, several times. The possibility was raised that she might  
simply be a spy or imposter trying to insinuate herself into their  
midst, and there was speculation of who might be behind such an idea.  
By this point the noise had drawn the attention of several other  
people, and now Rogue and Bobby had joined into the confusion.  
  
Finally, Logan had had enough, and he was pretty sure that Betsy  
had as well. Taking a deep breath, he bellowed "ENOUGH!!"  
  
Once everyone had stopped, now looking at him in startlement,  
he continued. "This is Betsy. I don't know how she got her new look,  
but it is her. Arguing about it won't accomplish anything. She isn't  
here as a spy for anyone." He glared at everyone, conveying his  
disapproval of their speculation quite clearly, along with an implied  
threat if it were continued.  
  
The Professor's voice carried into the room, over and through the  
number of people that had spilled into the room and still blocked the  
doorway. "While I can understand the reasons for a moderate degree of  
concern, such questions are easy enough to solve. A simple psi-scan  
should make clear weather or not this is in fact Betsy Braddock. If  
the lady is willing?"  
  
Slightly embarrassed, the Rogue and Bobby shifted, permitting  
the professor to enter the room. He looked entirely respectable, and  
had his hands folded in his lap, lending an impression of calm to the  
situation. The assorted people were now glancing from the Professor  
to Betsy, curious as to how this would resolve itself. If she was  
Betsy, the psi scan would verify her identity. If she were an  
imposter, she would not be able to fool the Professor, who was one of  
the most powerful telepaths of the world, possibly THE most powerful.  
  
Betsy thought about it for a few moments. If she let him look  
into her mind, he would know that she was Betsy, regardless of her  
altered appearance. But if he looked, he would also know.. he would  
learn that she had spent a few months as the Lady Mandarin, something  
that she did not want to be discovered. Which decision to make...  
  
"Fine. Scan me." Her voice didn't shake.  
  
She felt the touch of his mind, like being enfolded with warmth  
and a scent like freshly cut grass, and she could feel her life,  
memories and images flickering by as he touched into the deepest parts  
of her mind, not truly reading her thoughts, but testing the feeling  
of her memories, trying to determine if she was in fact Betsy  
Braddock. His careful probing felt like a warm touch in her mind,  
touching and poking into dark corners, throwing open the shuttered  
areas that she couldn't see, allowing her past to flood out, cascading  
over them both, nearly loosing them in the past of Betsy Braddock.  
She saw her childhood, the only girl trying to keep up with her older  
brother Jamie and her twin Brian. She saw/felt herself, hair dyed  
lavender, walking down a runway, displaying a sparkling gown. She  
relived the fear and pain of her encounter with Sabertooth, saw  
again the Siege Perilous, the ominous flickering lights beckoning...  
Madripor, with it's flickering lights and mingled culture, leaping at  
Logan, her mind clashing with his, and his recognition...  
  
Betsy gave a little gasp, and collapsed against Logan, her  
form draping over him, her arms encircling his chest, and held  
tightly, trying to keep from shaking with the force of all the  
released memories of her life, the intensity of he Professor's scan.  
She felt as if she were a carving of wax left to long in the sun, and  
her limbs felt heavy and weak, trembling with... something.  
  
"There can be no doubt, from what I saw in her mind and  
memories. This IS Betsy Braddock. Welcome home." The Professor's  
voice filled the room again, settling the question.  
  
end part 4  
  
  
  
  
The Professor's judgment had made it official. She had returned  
to a place that had been home, was once more welcomed among the X-Men. She  
could once more join them on missions, to defend those who needed it, to  
rescue people in distress, to fight against the hatred and fear that  
mutants were met with. She was part of the team again, something that she  
knew she had worked hard to earn.  
  
It was taking some time, but the others were accepting the idea  
that she was Betsy. Her new fighting skills were proving most useful, and  
had actually impressed many of the team. Logan had already discovered  
them, back in Madripor. To her relief, he didn't hold that against her,  
and he was willing to listen any time she wanted someone to talk to.  
Someone that understood having your life turned inside out, not knowing  
what had been done to you.  
  
Logan would listen anytime she needed a kind ear, and he would  
tell her that while she couldn't change what had been done, if she wanted  
to look for answers, he would help. His choice had been to simply move on,  
to make a present and future instead of worrying about his past, but, as he  
put it, his rebuilding had been long enough ago that everyone involved had  
probably died anyhow. Somehow, they also found themselves discussing other  
things. They would talk about the either, about books that they had read,  
opinions of current political debates...  
  
They went running together in the early mornings, when the mists  
still hung over the lake, and the trees were shrouded in fog and twilight,  
making the place feel as if it were set apart from the world. He had  
offered to give her some help when she redecorated her room, offering the  
use of his jeep and his lifting power, and had even gone with her to buy a  
new wardrobe. She had teased him that he was simply hoping to see her  
model the lingerie, and to her surprise, he had just blushed.  
  
She had designed herself a new costume, one that would work well  
with her new fighting style, one that would fit her new body properly. It  
was in deep blue, and left her complete freedom of movement. She was  
simply waiting for the perfect time to bring it forth, to show her new look  
to everyone. Her chance came on Tuesday, when Scott had a report of a  
problem with a mutant holding some people hostage. He asked for Rogue,  
Betsy and Warren to handle the matter, and to try to be discrete in it.  
  
Jaws had dropped when she stepped into the briefing room in her  
new costume. Most of her arms and legs were covered, although it was by  
gloves and boots. She could see the expressions of surprise on their  
faces, and several looks of pure appreciation. She smiled slightly, and  
sat for the briefing.  
  
On the way out, she stopped in front of Logan, a small, hopeful  
smile playing across her face. "Can I get a kiss for luck before I go?"  
  
His response was to wrap one hand around her waist and another  
behind her shoulders, his fingers tangling in her hair. Pulling her close  
to him, his lips met hers in the most intense kiss the room had ever been  
the location for. There was passion and desire and his hopes that she  
would return safely, and Betsy had several thoughts go through her mind of  
interesting things that they could do once she returned, and she wasn't  
quite certain if they were the product of her mind or of his.  
  
The kiss broke eventually, to scattered whistles from the others,  
who had been watching with wide eyes. Logan reluctantly released her, his  
hands sliding over her hip and arm as she stepped back from him, her cheeks  
darkening as she realized that they were now the center of attention.  
  
"Come back safe."  
  
end part 5. End Homecoming. 


	3. Reflection

author: Lucinda  
Series: Eastern Butterfly Story #3 Reflection  
rating: pg 13  
main character: Psylocke, pairing Betsy/Logan  
Disclaimer: I do not own Psylocke or any other characters from Marvel   
Comics. People with more money & lawyers do.  
Distribution: please ask first, Psyknife may have it if she wants it.  
  
  
Betsy and Logan were dating now. The rest of the team were   
having some difficulty adjusting to that idea. Logan and dating were   
ideas they hadn't expected to mix, especially not with someone brought   
up to style, class, and elegance. Betsy and Logan didn't seem to be   
aware of that, and were having a lot of fun. They would go out for   
picnics, and hiking trips, and if they occasionally returned with   
leaves in their hair... nobody wanted to ask.  
  
They had found a mutual enjoyment of nature, of the outdoors.   
They would go hiking, or rock climbing... or just spent time sitting   
out in the fresh air discussing various things, from sports to   
politics, to food preferences, to how to choose a good weapon. It was   
during one of their discussions that Betsy decided to ask Logan   
something that had been on her mind since she'd first met Logan, a   
small, relatively minor detail.  
  
"Logan? Why don't you ever go swimming?"  
  
He chuckled, a deep, comforting sound. "That has been on your   
mind a while? You know I've got a metal reinforced skeleton, right?   
How much do you think I weigh, Betsy?"  
  
She had frowned, uncertain where that was going. "Of course I   
know your skeleton's metal. Umm you look like you should be around a   
hundred and eighty, maybe a hundred ninety pounds. What does that   
have to do with swimming?"  
  
He'd been laying on the grass, chewing absently on a blade, his   
eyes peaceful. He rolled over, leaning on his elbows as he looked at   
her. "That might be what a normal guy my size would weigh, but I have   
metal bones. I'm the heaviest person at the mansion, damn near three   
hundred pounds. I blame the beer..." He grinned, his eyes full of   
humor. "Beer's fattening you know."  
  
"Logan! You aren't.. you are not fat! Three hundred pounds...   
really? Wouldn't that mean... ohh. You'd probably sink in water."   
She was leaning on her stomach, her almost touching his, and she   
could feel the heat of his body touching her arm, dancing over her   
skin.  
  
He just looked so perfectly in place in the small clearing, a   
small finger of the lake behind them, the clear sky overhead. She   
could tell that there was nobody around. They had total privacy.   
Shifting slightly, she leaned over, kissing him on the lips, her tongue  
brushing his lips in an invitation. She wrapped her hands around   
his arms and pulled herself closer, wanting Logan... wanting to   
feel his arms around her, to be surrounded by his strength.  
  
They didn't get back to the mansion for a long time.  
  
When they finally made their way back, meandering across the   
back yard, Logan could hear a considerable commotion near the house.   
There was shouting, and he could smell confusion, Scott, Rogue,   
Warren, Bobby, Hank, and.. another Betsy?  
  
"What in the hell.... We need to find out what's going on."  
  
Logan and Betsy ran over to the pool area, wanting to know what   
was happening. They arrived to see most of the people arguing, a   
great deal of confusion, and standing there in a long purple cloak was   
a figure with long lavender hair... Betsy Braddock.  
  
end part 1.  
  
  
Logan looked at the woman with the lavender hair, and then at he   
woman at his side. Their features were different, that much was   
unmistakable. But the way they held themselves, their posture and   
attitude... those were the same. Inhaling, he made another unsettling   
discovery. The scents of the two women were almost identical. He   
would be able to tell the purple haired Betsy from the lavender haired   
Betsy by scent, but.. they both smelled like Betsy Braddock to him.  
  
"How can both of you be Betsy Braddock?" His question slipped   
out, almost vanishing into the general noise and confusion.  
  
Apparently, everyone else wanted to know that very same thing.   
The cacophony of sound continued, rising in volume, emotions running   
high. He managed to gather that this woman had arrived, unnoticed.   
That she had claimed to be 'the real Betsy Braddock'. That nobody was   
quite certain how she'd got inside.  
  
Finally, the shouting was silenced by the Professor's mental   
demand. :SILENCE!! That is enough shouting from everyone.:  
  
The mental shout had left everyone with a ringing inside their   
heads, similar to the way that a loud noise left a person's ears   
ringing, with a faint echo effect. Both Betsy's looked pale,   
apparently the shout had felt more unsettling to them. If they were   
both telepaths, that would explain things. Betsy in the lavender   
haired version had been a telepath, and he knew that the Asian Betsy   
beside him was a telepath....  
  
How would everyone react to this? Would they want to believe   
their eyes and allow the lavender haired woman who looked like the   
Betsy they remembered stay? Or would they be willing to trust the   
psi-scan that the Professor had already done on his Betsy? He could   
see the potential for trouble already.  
  
The professor came out in his wheelchair, rubbing his temple   
slightly, as if his head also hurt. Why would his head hurt? Wait,   
hadn't he said something once...  
  
"Strong emotions make a sort of mental background noise. A lot   
of intense emotions, like arguments can give a telepath a headache,   
especially if they can't shield it all out." Betsy's voice was a soft   
murmur from his side.  
  
"Shouting will not answer the question of who is this woman. If   
she is Betsy Braddock, as she has claimed to be, then we are left to   
determine the identity of the other woman using the name Betsy   
Braddock. If our new arrival is not Ms. Braddock, we are left with   
the question of her actual identity. Logan, do either of these women   
smell like Betsy should?" The Professor's voice was slightly weary,   
and sounded as if he was attempting to stay calm during this whole   
confusion.  
  
"Nice thought, Chuck." He watched as the Professor winced   
slightly at the nickname. "They both smell like Betsy should. Minor   
variations, but that's only to be expected. Someone's scent can vary   
a little bit very easily, depending on all sorts of things.. their   
mood, what they had to eat, did they color their hair.. which both of   
them have done, different brands though. No easy solution there." He   
put his arm around his Betsy's waist, a silent message that she had   
his support, whatever happened here.  
  
She placed her hand on his shoulder, leaning slightly on him.   
Clearly, she wasn't very calm about this new Betsy either, regardless   
of how she wanted to appear. Then again, if someone showed up   
claiming to be the 'real Wolverine' he'd be pretty stunned.. and   
angry. Most of the people were to busy watching the other Betsy to   
notice that, although he could see Rogue watching with a small smile.  
  
The more he thought about it, the more it bothered him. One   
Betsy was Asian, the other white, British if she was the 'real' Betsy.   
There should be more difference in their scents. They shouldn't smell   
so much alike, or stand so much the same. The behavior patterns were   
a match. The scents were a match, and they shouldn't have been.   
There was definitely something going on here, and he had the feeling   
that the truth about the two Betsy's would have something rotten if   
you dug far enough.  
  
He suddenly remembered something else. On the trip back from   
Madripor, his Betsy had mentioned a fuzzy memory of a woman with six   
arms. If Spiral was involved, that almost guaranteed that there would   
be something rotten. He just hoped that it wouldn't involve Mojo.   
That overgrown, spineless, overbearing... well, best not to get to   
worked up about Mojo until he had an idea what was going on.  
  
Lavender haired Betsy spoke, her voice sounding calm, despite   
the faint scent of fear/confusion/anger that he could smell from her.   
"A simple psionic scan should verify that I am Betsy Braddock. If you   
would be so kind, Professor Xavier?"  
  
Xavier looked at her, and both he and lavender hair went very   
still. After a few moments, Lavender Betsy swayed a bit, and the   
Professor was frowning. "From what I saw in her mind, she is Betsy   
Braddock. This is a bit of a complication, as a psi scan on our other   
Betsy showed the same information. I suggest moving somewhere more   
comfortable. Perhaps an in depth comparison of heir minds will clear   
up the question?"  
  
With that statement, the two Betsy's followed the Professor into   
the mansion. Logan followed as well, trying to offer what support he   
could to his lover. It was going to be awkward, he was certain of   
that. She would want a comforting presence afterwards.  
  
end part 2.  
They ended up in the Professor's office/study. The two women   
each settled into chairs in front of the Professor's desk, and their   
seated posture was even the same. Their shoulders were level and   
slightly back, spines erect. Their arms were slightly out, the hands   
just touching at the fingertips, and each Betsy had placed her legs   
out in front of her, the right foot crossed behind the left leg, toes   
slightly pointed. It was actually a bit eerie.  
  
Logan just positioned himself along the wall, slightly closer to   
his Betsy, and crossed his arms, settling himself to wait. He's   
watched psi scans before, there usually wasn't much for a non-telepath   
to see. They would be sitting there, possibly with expressions of   
concentration, or blank looks. But he still wanted to be here. His   
Betsy was going through this again, someone questioning her identity,   
doubting that she was who she claimed to be.  
  
She could use a bit of emotional support. Besides, he cared for   
her, far more than simply as a team mate, or as someone to casually   
share the pleasures of the flesh with. He.. cared, in a nerve-  
wracking sort of way that made him smile sappily at certain songs, and   
pick up little things just because he knew she liked them. He might   
even be falling in love with her, might have already fallen. That was   
something he didn't want to think about too much. He wasn't good at   
analyzing his feelings, and the idea of falling in love.. to be   
honest, it terrified him. It was a factor now, frightening or not.   
He cared for his Betsy, and if standing here watching them stare would   
help her through it, well... he'd just.. stand here and frown at his   
thoughts. He cared for her, a lot. Now, he just had to hope that   
someone didn't show up and kill her, or drag her out of the   
country....  
  
He felt himself begin to fidget, wondering exactly what was   
taking so long. All he had to do was look, see that his Betsy was the   
real one, and break it to lavender, right? Only, it seemed to be taking  
a long time. This had to be evidence of the rottenness behind things.   
Someone had made trouble.  
  
The Professor finally opened his eyes, rubbing them tiredly.   
"That was... troubling. In my initial scans, both of them seemed to   
be Betsy Braddock. A deeper look at this one" Here he gestured at   
Logan's Betsy, the one with the dark purple hair. "I discovered   
another set of memories, belonging to a woman named Kwannon. It   
seemed as if our mystery were solved, except that I also found the   
Kwannon memories inside the mind of our other Betsy. Both women have   
complete memories of Betsy Braddock and Kwannon, and brief images of   
some sort of medical facility. The memories do diverge after the   
medical area, but that is more of a function of different life   
experiences. I cannot determine from a psionic examination which of   
them is the original Betsy Braddock, if in fact, either of them is the   
original. What is apparent is that there was extensive medical and   
psionic tampering done to you both in this medical facility."  
  
Neither woman looked happy with this announcement. Logan wasn't   
thrilled either, although there wasn't anything that he could do. He   
didn't listen as the Professor asked them to undergo a thorough   
medical examination, in hopes that that might indicate which of them   
might be the original. Again, the two Betsy's were not pleased, but   
agreed, their dismay and reluctance visible.  
  
Those tests were a bit more interesting, but no more helpful.   
The two women showed near identical genetic composition, and neither   
one was an exact match to the previous template for Betsy Braddock.   
Neither one shoed pure DNA for their apparent racial types either,   
instead having DNA that seemed to be a blend of Caucasian and Asian.   
As if they hadn't merely been combined in minds and memories, but as   
if their very DNA had been blurred between the two of them. It   
sounded to Logan as if someone had wanted to create as much confusion   
as possible about the identities of these two women.  
  
"Sounds like someone's trying to cloud the issue as much as they   
can. Wanna make a bet that whoever's behind this wanted to cause us   
trouble?" Logan had to offer his opinion.  
  
The Professor looked startled and thoughtful at that suggestion.   
It was as if he had been so busy contemplating the mystery of   
uncovering the 'real' Betsy that he hadn't considered why. He didn't   
seem pleased by the idea that someone was deliberately trying to   
confuse things.  
  
"You make a disturbingly accurate observation, Logan. I suppose   
we have little choice in the matter. We shall simply have to allow   
them both to stay." The Professor's observation was tinged with   
exhaustion.  
  
end part 3.  
That night ended up being more awkward than people had   
anticipated. Lavender Betsy had remembered the location of the room   
used by Psylocke previously, and had discovered that purple haired   
Betsy had redecorated, and that none of the clothing that had been   
left there was still in the closets. There had been a near   
argument, but Logan had dove in, saying that the old clothing had   
simply been moved to storage, and he was certain that something could   
be arranged for a separate room.  
  
His Betsy had ended up spending the night in his room, something   
that had turned out far less interesting that he'd imagined. She had   
been trembling with an emotional overload, and he's held her in his   
arms for a long time, simply comforting her that he wouldn't desert   
her. That he was here for her, that she was his Betsy. He had held   
her while she trembled, bitter salty tears trickling down her face and   
onto his chest.  
  
She hadn't slept well, not quite waking up, but her slumber was   
clearly filled with unpleasant dreams, and she thrashed and tossed in   
her sleep, occasionally whimpering as well. He could smell fear, or   
anger, and once a deep despair. Every time she had another nightmare,   
her movements woke Logan, and all he could do was try to hold her,   
hoping that his presence might somehow offer her a tiny measure of   
comfort.  
  
Logan was left feeling tense and cranky when morning finally   
came, and the best thing that he could think of was to go make his   
Betsy breakfast. By the time he returned, carrying a tray laden with   
food, she was awake, sitting on the edge of his bed, her hair   
cascading down in a tempting manner, completely natural and enticing.  
  
"Morning, darlin'. I brought breakfast." Logan shut the door   
behind him, wanting at least a few moments alone with his lady. "I   
hope you feel better, I know you didn't sleep well."  
  
She looked at him, her eyes slightly red. "How do you know I   
didn't rest well? Oh! Strawberry pancakes!"  
  
He just chuckled, enjoying her enthusiasm for the fruity   
pancakes. He couldn't stand eating them himself, but if she enjoyed   
them.. well, he'd just bring her the things. After all, just because   
she ate them didn't mean he had to. It was always interesting to   
watch her enjoy them.  
  
She seemed a bit calmer after breakfast, and he settled on the   
bed, combing out her hair. He could feel her relaxing as he gently   
removed the tangles. It was something of a secret indulgence of his,   
but Logan loved the feeling of a woman's hair sliding over his   
fingers. It gave him a feeling of connection, and allowed him to   
enjoy her scent. Occasionally, if he thought about it, he wondered if   
this enjoyment was some sort of feral grooming instinct, but he   
usually just decided not to worry about the why and just enjoy   
himself.  
  
His Betsy enjoyed his attentions as well, sometimes letting him   
comb through her hair for hours. Occasionally, he would place braids   
in her hair, ranging from the very simple, to a French braid, or   
dozens of little ones, something that normally caused her to laugh,   
and finger comb them back out. Neither of them had any idea where or   
when Logan had learned to braid, let alone a few of the elegant styles   
that he had placed her hair into for some of their more formal   
outings.  
  
Finally, when her violet hair had been combed until of fell like   
silk, Logan began to plait it into an elegant French braid. He could   
that she was upset by yesterday's arrival. The questioning of her   
identity hadn't helped.  
  
"Hank said that the medical testing couldn't give a definite   
answer. That both of us showed 'marked similarities' to the original.   
He said that neither of us were an exact match." Her voice was soft,   
and revealed some of the tension that the confusion had brought in   
her.  
  
"Who could I be if I'm not Betsy? If I am Betsy, why does she   
look like I did before, when I look.. different. Why would someone do   
this? What could it possibly gain anyone to put my identity in   
question?" She sounded worried, and as if a dark cloud of potential   
despair was hovering over her.  
  
Logan pulled her onto his lap, his arms going around her. He   
tucked her head onto his shoulder, and held her close, feeling his   
body tense with a desire to find the person that had caused his Betsy   
so much pain and hurt them. "I don't know what anyone would gain. I   
don't know why someone would want to try to change your identity. I   
only know that some people are scum, and destroy lives just because   
they can. And I know that.. I .. I care for you, think I could be   
falling head over heels for you. I'm not about to abandon you, no   
over this, not for anything."  
  
end part 4  
Logan and his Betsy had eventually gone down to the common areas   
of the mansion. There was still confusion over the matter, and quiet   
speculation over how there could be two Betsy's and why, or ways to   
avoid confusion. Was there a polite way to indicate that you meant   
the lavender haired version instead of the violet haired version?   
Both of them apparently thought of themselves as Betsy Braddock, so   
that meant that using the name Betsy, or even Braddock wouldn't make a   
clear distinction.  
  
Logan was listening to a quiet debate between Scott and Warren   
and Rogue over that very matter, what names to use for each of the   
women. It was actually interesting, and there was considerable   
confusion about what to do. There had never been two of the same   
person, or something similar enough to use as an example. Concerns   
were brought up about housing, where would the lavender haired Betsy   
stay? Would it be wise to ask them to share a room?  
  
Of further interest was the discovery that Lavender had ended up   
staying in Bobby's room last night. Bobby seemed almost embarrassed   
when that had slipped out, as if he was worried that his motives would   
be questioned, or that someone would accuse him of taking advantage of   
the woman. Logan didn't think either one. Bobby was basically a good   
kid, well, a man now. He had a sense of decency, of basic good   
behavior, which was entirely, separate from the manners and etiquette   
that Warren had been taught. Bobby had probably just wanted her to   
have somewhere that she would feel comfortable staying, and offered   
his room.  
  
Pity there weren't more guys like that in the world.  
  
His contemplation of the moral decay in society, accompanied by   
a vague feeling that things 'used to be better when..' made him wonder   
just how old he actually was. This pondering was interrupted by the   
Professor's voice in his mind, asking him to please come to the study.   
There was an impression with the summons that implied that the   
Professor wanted to speak to him concerning the Betsys.  
  
He went to see what the Professor wanted, despite the whispers   
of a little part of him that wanted to stay with his Betsy, to make   
certain nothing happened. After all, why should she need to much   
protection here, in the mansion that was 'home' and 'safety' to so   
many of the X-Men? Shouldn't she be as safe if not safer here than   
anywhere else in the world? Logic aside, he didn't like the idea of   
leaving her be, and hoped that whatever the Professor had to say went   
quickly.  
  
:Logan. Please come in, sit down. I suspect that you will not   
like what I have to say.: The Professor's mental sending echoed   
slightly inside Logan's mind, the 'voice' at once lacking in pitch and   
tone variations and being laden far more thickly than a verbalization   
with emotions.  
  
Logan entered the study, closing the door behind him. He   
carefully lowered himself into a chair, and placed one of his cigars   
at his mouth, although it remained unlit. "This is about the two   
Betsys, isn't it?"  
  
The Professor nodded, looking worried, smelling of concern and   
dread, and a hint of fear/suspicion. "I found memory fragments of a   
lab in the minds of both of them. They also possess matching memory   
sets for both Betsy and Kwannon. There is deviation after Kwannon's   
accident and Betsy's passage through the Seige. As near as I can   
figure, something happened to the two women, Kwannon and Betsy after   
those occurrences, and then Spiral intervened. I know far to little   
about Spiral, and nothing that I know gives me any confidence as   
regards her motives or ethics. I fear that there may be some sort   
of.. either an implanted or inbuilt trap, or some manipulative desire   
to cause confusion simply by ... It is as if the two minds were   
copied over, giving them both two full working sets of memory and   
personality and motivation."  
  
"Was the genetic tampering to mess with us as well, or some sort   
of side effect of the memory transfer?" Logan was not happy. The   
slight hint of growl under his words made that entirely clear.  
  
The Professor shuffled a set of papers, crisp, the ink maybe   
fourteen hours old, the lab tests straight from Hank's hand to the   
Professor. "Unfortunately, there is no way for us to determine that   
from here... what are those two doing?" Xavier's voice trailed away,   
his eyes widening in shock and worry.  
  
Logan was out of his seat, the chair spinning, tilting as Logan   
rushed out the door. It had to be the Betsy's, his lady and the   
lavender one. There was no doubt in his mind. He knew that he   
shouldn't have left her.  
  
He went down, somehow certain that they would be in the danger   
room, that this was trouble, dangerous and certain to lead to no good.   
He pushed Cyclops out of his way, and simply dropped over the side of   
the stairwell downwards, feeling the need to hurry, scenting the   
women's anger/aggression in the air. He could also smell steel, and   
the oil used on their swords... The harsh jarring through his feet   
and legs as he landed was inconsequential.  
  
He charged down the hall, a murky, choking dread flooding his   
system, and he extended the claws, slashing through the door tot he   
danger room, something inside him whispering :now danger danger the   
sword, light glittering on steel, exhaustion, balanced opponent   
fear/exhaustion/frustration, almost have the strike...:  
  
"What in the Hell are you two doing!?!" Logan's voice bellowed   
the question even as he flung himself between the two women, both   
dressed in close fitting garments, each looking intent on killing the   
other.  
  
His Betsy, with her violet braid pulled short her strike, her   
sword tip just prickling against his skin, and he could smell her   
fear, her shock that she had nearly run her sword through him to   
strike at the other.... "Logan...."  
  
The other's sword thrust continued, slowed a small fraction   
from the shock of seeing him there, between herself and her rival,   
shock/surprise and satisfaction warring in her scent. The blade slid   
neatly between his ribs, just over his heart, and the force pushed him   
back, enough to cause his Betsy's sword to part his skin slightly.  
  
That hurt. A lot... impaled on a sword.. damn.  
  
end part 5.  
  
Logan woke up, finding himself still in the danger room, hearing   
loud arguments echoing through the room. The shouting made his ears   
ring, and his chest hurt, like someone had ran something sharp... oh,   
right, someone had run him through with a sword.  
  
"...bloodthirsty assassin!" 'didn't mean to kill Logan!' 'how is   
that going to make anything...' "She ran him through!" 'Why hasn't   
someone called a doctor?!?' "I don't think a band-aid will help that"   
'I don't think this is a sign of agreement' "Who let the two of them   
in here!?!" 'Where did that sword even come from..' "Definitely   
showing some differences now!"  
  
Logan rolled slightly, wincing at the pain the motion caused.   
Carefully, he pushed his torso up, and made it to a sitting position.   
His Betsy came over, her face tear streaked, eyes bright with hope,   
and knelt down, her arms wrapping around him.  
  
"Logan? I was worried... She ran you through with her sword..."   
His Betsy's voice was sweet in Logan's ears, even with the slight   
tremor from fear/concern/hope warring within her.  
  
"I've felt better. Let me take a stand and say I sure as hell   
see a few differences now. You wouldn't run me through, she did in   
hopes that it would get you , or maybe she just didn't care enough to   
stop." Logan insisted on getting to his feet, far to stubborn to stay   
on the ground near someone that had skewered him any longer than   
absolutely necessary.  
  
He took a few steps towards the assembled people, some of whom   
had noticed that he was no longer on the floor bleeding. His eyes   
were focused on the lavender haired woman. When he spoke, his words   
were almost a growl. "Betsy Braddock is now and was before an X-Man.   
X-Men don't skewer their teammates because they don't like the person   
behind them. I don't care if Chuck says you remember being Betsy,   
because you sure as hell don't act like her, not in the big things.   
Pick another name, go by just a code name if you want, it works for   
Rogue. If I catch you trying to call yourself Betsy again, you'll be   
the one skewered."  
  
Now that he was the center of everyone's attention, Logan had   
the feeling that his words hadn't been particularly tactful, or   
peaceful, but he didn't feel peaceful. His lung hurt, so did the   
muscles of his chest. Being skewered made him cranky.  
  
"Aren't you over reacting just a bit, Wolverine?" Scott's   
question was not loud, but it was one that he could see echoed in the   
eyes of many of the others.  
  
"They both started their swings at the same time. If my Betsy   
could stop, she could have stopped her blade as well. How about this,   
anyone else gets skewered by someone claiming to be an X-Man, then   
they can say I'm over-reacting. She's not Betsy." There was definite   
growl. Logan glared at the assembly, and then he and his Betsy walked   
out of the danger room, and out into one of the gardens.  
  
"How did that start, Betsy?" His voice was low, and most of the   
growl was gone, but it was with relief that he sat on one of the stone   
benches.  
  
"She.. she was being snippy, and I was snippy back. Somehow, the   
implication? challenge? insinuation? was made that I couldn't fight,   
that I was afraid of her because I knew that I wasn't the real Betsy.   
Then, we were in the danger room, and fighting.. what was most   
frustrating about that was that we had the same style, the same   
skills, the same tactics. Every move she made, I knew how to counter,   
every move I made, she countered. It was as if.. maybe the Professor   
was right.. the exact same pool of knowledge for us both." Her voice   
was quiet, slightly uneven from emotions.  
  
She looked at him, her dark eyes glittering with unshed tears.   
"My temper almost got you killed. Logan, I'm so sorry..."  
  
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. "Shhh   
not all you, my butterfly. She helped. It's not all your fault, and   
I'll be just fine by tomorrow, day after at the latest. You didn't   
hurt me. We got each other, and I don't give up. I found you, and   
I'm keeping you."  
  
They sat in the garden for a long time, simply holding each other.   
It had taken them too long and too much to find each other to let go   
now.  
  
end part 6. 


	4. Seeking

Eastern Butterfly4: Seeking  
author: Lucinda  
Series: Eastern Butterfly Story #4   
rating: pg 13  
main character: Psylocke  
pairing Betsy/Logan, Kwannon/Bobby  
Disclaimer: I do not own Psylocke or any other characters from Marvel Comics. People with more money & lawyers do.  
Distribution: please ask first, Psyknife & Luba may have it.  
  
  
  
  
There had been a considerable amount of tension between Betsy and the other woman, who had agreed to be use the code-name Revanche. They had come to the mutual conclusion that it would be safest for all the others to spend as little time together as possible, and a room had been found for Revanche with her lavender hair away from Betsy's room. Revanche had found herself spending a great deal of time with Bobby Drake. He had decided to take the responsibility of making certain she felt accepted or at least comfortable at the mansion. When she had decided that she needed new clothing, he and Jean had gone on the shopping trip. Bobby had come back after that was over, swearing that he never again wanted to spend the day out shopping with two women for a new wardrobe. Two days later he found himself out with the lavender haired lady shopping for shoes.  
  
Logan and Betsy had found that a bit interesting. Logan had speculated that perhaps Bobby was simply to nice for his own good. He offers her his room, and next thing, he's being dragged shopping with her and Jean both. Betsy had laughed, and insisted that it was sweet. She had also speculated that perhaps Bobby had another reason for shopping with Revanche other than simply being nice. Especially considering how much Jean enjoyed shopping. She had paused, thinking over all the factors of that trip.  
  
"Maybe it isn't because Bobby's just too nice to refuse. Maybe, just maybe, Bobby might be sweet on someone." Her voice had held traces of amusement.  
  
"What! You think he's sweet on... I know he isn't sweet on Jeannie, all his reactions are wrong for it. But him and Revanche... I haven't watched the two of them together very much. You really think he might have feelings for her?" Logan wasn't entirely certain where Betsy was getting her idea.  
  
"Why exactly do you think that he couldn't have feelings for her? IS there a particular reason? Some particular problem with her?" There was a note of warning in Betsy's voice.  
  
"I generally take a while to trust people that skewer me. She's pretty, and smart, and she can fight. That isn't enough to mean that she'd be good for Bobby. I suppose that it doesn't mean that she'd be bad for him, but I don't know yet." Logan tried to phrase his answer carefully.  
  
Frowning slightly, Betsy considered this. "I suppose your right. It's just... I seem to go between being furious that she has what used to be my face, and I don't and feeling like she's... as if she's family. And then she'll say something that I remember, and I'll feel all angry and jealous and furious that she has all of my life in her head. It's a bit confusing, and I certainly can't talk to her about it."  
  
Logan chuckled a bit. "Maybe part of the reason she gets so upset at you so easily is because you have all of her life in your head. If that upsets you, why wouldn't it upset her? Didn't the Professor say you two had identical copies of the memories of Betsy and Kwannon both? Between that and the DNA testing that Hank did, I'd say you two are sisters now, like it or not."  
  
"Sisters? She's not... well, maybe sisters would be the closest word to use. My sister... I never had a sister before, only brothers." Betsy seemed to find the idea of a sister interesting, and far easier to accept than simply someone else remembering her life.  
  
"Near as I can tell, family seems to be able to frustrate, exasperate and annoy faster than anyone else in the world, so she fits perfectly." He wrapped his arms around Betsy, tucking her against his body. "Besides, who else does she have in this world?"  
  
Smiling slightly, Betsy had a quick reply. "Bobby."  
  
"You seem to find the idea that there's something between those two an awful lot. What if there isn't anything there? What if it's all in your head?"  
  
Betsy sounded almost amused when she answered. "Then we set them up until there is something. Bobby is a sweet-heart, and deserves to be happy. And Kwannon... her life hasn't had a lot of happiness. Besides, if she's my sister, it's my solemn duty to be nosy about her personal life."  
  
The only response that Logan could think of for that was to laugh. Followed by thoroughly distracting her from wondering about someone else's personal life.  
  
end part 1.  
  
  
Logan had taken Betsy out for a moonlight walk. They had ended up being a bit... distracted, and had fallen asleep outside. They were trying to slip back into the house before anyone noticed. Unfortunately, it was obvious that that wouldn't happen. They could clearly hear loud voices raised in something that wasn't quite a discussion, but hadn't crossed over into argument yet.   
  
"...if she wants to go out and fight with us, why shouldn't she?" That sounded like Bobby.  
  
"Have you forgotten what happened to Wolverine when he got between her and Psylocke? She skewered him! The X-Men are not killers! What happens if we take her with us and she kills someone?" Scott's voice was unmistakable as he raised concerns about Revanche's suitability.  
  
"Weren't you saying we needed to increase our fighting skills? She's a good fighter, you can't deny that." Bobby had an almost pleading tone to his voice.  
  
"I'm not arguing that she can fight. She's a very skilled fighter, and that's half of my concern. Can she take people down without killing them?"  
  
"Why don't we try to find out before you forbid her to go anywhere? If she isn't part fo the team, what gives you any authority over her? If she's part of the team, she'll have to follow the rules, to listen to our leader."  
  
"How exactly do you expect us to try..." Scott's words were interrupted by the sight of Logan and Psylocke coming through the door.  
  
Betsy simply looked at him, and gave him a small, slightly sad smile. "She can take people down without killing them if she wants to. I know that she's capable of it. Besides, Bobby's right. Either she's a member of the team and has something to do or she's simply staying here under no-one's authority or guidance. Make your choice."  
  
"Are you certain that that is a wise idea? To let a former assassin onto the team?" Scott sounded doubtful.  
  
His doubts hit Betsy, and she found herself remembering her time as the Lady Mandarin. The assassin that had killed people for her lover the crime lord. The person that had tried to kill Logan. With a small almost indecipherable noise, she left the room, going upstairs in an almost blind haze of emotions. Scott and Bobby were both left in utter confusion, and Logan was scowling at Scott. He knew exactly what must be going through Betsy's mind about now, and it didn't make him happy.  
  
"Isn't one of the big things here second chances? Hasn't the Professor gone on about giving people a second chance no matter what? Isn't that why we have Rogue? I don't know if it's wise to keep Revanche here or not. I do know that it would be giving her a second chance, and that's supposed to be one of the points of this place. Betsy has a good point though. If she's not here with the team in some capacity, even probationary, then we have no authority over her." Leaving his words in the kitchen, he went upstairs, hoping that Betsy wasn't to upset, that he could help calm her down.  
  
He found Betsy on her way to the lower levels, already changed and looking ready for a workout. Her eyes looked a bit red, and they seemed a bit brighter from the unshed tears, but it was obvious that she didn't plan to just hide upstairs and cry. She had a towel slung over one shoulder, and looked like she was trying to keep a neutral expression.  
  
"Want a partner?" Logan wasn't certain how upset she was, but it was clear that she was a bit disturbed.  
  
"Always. But it might be good to have someone to work out with me." There was a hint of a smile with her words, a hint that told Logan that all wasn't so bad.  
  
They decided to use the danger room, to add a bit more challenge to the session. Betsy wanted something that would leave her too busy to worry about 'had Scott meant her with his comment about former assassins' or did he even know what the Professor had said about her and the other? How they were like four minds in two bodies, each containing all that had been Betsy and all that had been Kwannon? Such thoughts only made her feel upset and worried, and made a small part of her want to cry.  
  
Betsy had worked up a fine sheen of sweat over her muscles when she heard the small bell that indicated another person had joined the session. She gave it little thought until she caught a glimpse of lavender out of the corner of her eye. Revanche had joined in, and was fighting the drones and dodging obstacles alongside her.  
  
"So, sister, what are your intentions towards Bobby?" Betsy couldn't quite resist testing the other woman. She also wanted to learn how she would react to being called 'sister'. Logan's logic had made sense to her, but that didn't vouch for how the other woman would feel.  
  
"Sister?!? What do you mean by that? And why do you care what's between me and Bobby? You have Logan, remember?" There was something guarded in the other woman's voice.  
  
"We know everything about each other's pasts. We know exactly how to aggravate each other, and frustrate each other in a way that normally only family can do. I've never had a sister before, but..." Betsy shrugged, trying not to antagonize the other. "As for why do I care about Bobby, he's a nice guy. I just want him to be happy."  
  
Her eyes narrowed in frustration, Revanche kicked the head off of an attack droid. "I don't know what's going on with me and Bobby! He's nice, and sweet... and I've never had anyone be so sweet to me before unless they were trying to manipulate me into something. He's not trying to get me to do anything! He's just... nice, and it confuses me. He makes me feel all..."  
  
Betsy smiled, feeling a bit of satisfaction that she had been right. "Fluttery inside? Find yourself thinking of him and smiling? You're developing feelings for him."  
  
Revanche looked at Psylocke, her expression suspicious. "Is this where you tell me to back off and leave Bobby alone?"  
  
Psylocke smiled. "No, this is where I say just try not to break his heart."  
  
end part 2.  
  
  
Revanche started going on missions, always accompanied by Iceman. She handled herself well under fire, although she had spent a great deal of time forcing herself to practice in simulations of combat with mutants, to make certain that she would be prepared for energy blasts and telekinetics as well. Her practices and preparations drew grudging respect from Cyclops.  
  
She had also spent some time practicing with Bobby, and he had been very impressed with her fighting abilities. There had been a few practices with Psylocke, and while the two of them were not precisely friends, they had come to something like a truce. The now referred to each other as sisters, even if it was often in tones of frustration.  
  
It had been decided to try to avoid having both Revanche and Psylocke on the same mission, so Betsy didn't often get a chance to see how her sister actually did, but she felt confident that her 'sister' could handle herself. She did hear and see for herself that Revanche was growing closer to Bobby, and that they were showing definite signs of influence on each other. He was gentling Revanche, soothing some of her sharper edges away, calming her temper. Bobby was also taking some things more seriously, and had shown more seriousness and effort in learning new extents of his powers. They were good for each other.  
  
Betsy was considering the idea of Kwannon and Bobby together. They were good for each other, balancing each other's extremes, and drawing out new facets of each other, things that hadn't been so apparent before. She was also getting to be on better terms with her sister. Not exactly learning more, because they had each other's memories, but they were getting along better, forming an emotional connection that had been absent before.  
  
Logan was smiling slightly as he sat down beside Betsy. "You were right. What do you win?"  
  
Slightly startled, she looked at him. He was smiling, so it wasn't a terrible thing that she was right. What did he know that she didn't? "What am I right about this time?"  
  
Logan leaned back in the chair, his smile widening. "Kwannon and Bobby. They definitely have something between them. How do you feel about in-laws?"  
  
The implications of his words soaked in, and she sat on Logan's lap, her hand resting on his shoulder. "In-laws? Are they thinking about getting married then?"  
  
Logan chuckled. "Not sure if they are thinking about marriage, but they've gotten up close and very personal. If she's not careful, she could end up with a little Drake running around."  
  
Betsy smiled, thinking of an adorable little baby with a smiling face and little tiny fingers. "I could be aunt Betsy and buy all sorts of goodies for their little one. Hmm... I like parts of that idea."  
  
"Whoa, hang on there woman! I said they're having sex, not having a baby! One may cause the other, but I don't think it has yet. Stop planning a nursery until someone's actually expecting."  
  
Sighing slightly, Betsy nodded. "I suppose that's reasonable. I just hope things work out well for them both."  
  
What neither of them knew was how concerned Scott was about the involvement of Spiral in the matter of Revanche and Psylocke. He had developed a near phobia about manipulative plots, and had concluded that someone had to go investigate the matter of Spiral. Investigate the matter of the two women with the memories of Betsy Braddock, and to uncover the truth about what had happened.  
  
The group that went to learn the truth consisted of Scott, Jean and Rogue. It was their hope to find out what had happened, and learn if there was any future danger to the team intended through this confusing procedure. Scott also wanted to find some clarification on what sort of person Kwannon had been, to discover how safe she really would be to have around.  
  
Their departure caused unsettling but vague dreams in both of the purple haired telepaths. Revanche and Psylocke both felt that only trouble would come of their 'fact-finding' mission. Perhaps the measures of happiness that the two women had found would only be temporary after all.  
  
end part 3.  
  
  
While Scott, Jean and Rogue were away, life continued for the rest of the team. Missions continued to arise that required intervention, and there were new mutants in need of rescue. Revanche was settling nicely into place, and had even started letting more people call her Kwannon. She had gone on 'Girls Nights' with Betsy, and Storm, and was starting to develop a friendship with Storm, something much easier than her relationship with Betsy.  
  
Kwannon had also moved her things in with Bobby. They were quite clearly involved, and were not trying to hide it. They didn't flaunt their relationship in front of people, but it was not uncommon to see them sitting close, holding hands and smiling at each other. To see them going for long walks together, or sharing a plate of something to eat. Most of the people thought it was rather sweet. Bobby was also much more content with things. He seemed more comfortable with himself, and his powers. He was also discovering new depths for them. He had discovered that he could do more than simply create a layer of icy armor over his body, he could actually transform himself into ice. That discovery had added a whole new dimension to his abilities, and he was still experimenting to see what he could do with his ice form.  
  
Betsy and Kwannon had found a balance point for their own relationship as well. They were not best friends, but they were close, and they understood each other in ways that most people couldn't fathom, would never understand. They had figured out boundaries, figured or decided where one of them ended and the other began. The mansion was seeming much more peaceful. Kwannon and Bobby were being sweetly romantic, and it might have been the first time for Kwannon that anyone had ever wooed her. Romance was blossoming in the air. Betsy and Logan were still happy together, to the surprise of many people that didn't think Logan could actually sustain a relationship. Kwannon and Bobby were sweetly occupied with new love. Storm had started meeting with a 'polite and attractive' gentleman that she had met in the park one day. Yes, it was clearly a time of happiness and tender joy.  
  
But it would not last. It couldn't last, not for them. Things started to crumble when the Professor was taken away by the Shi'ar in order to try to resolve some crisis involving Lilandra. With his benign advising presence gone, things started to feel slightly less organized, slightly more extreme.  
  
Storm, Iceman, Revanche and Beast went on a mission, attempting to rescue a small group of mutants and suspected mutants from a militant anti-mutant group. It was suspected that this group intended to hold a public execution of the mutants, claiming that they were 'simply cleansing the gene-pool'. There was no doubt that they could not simply allow this to happen. It was against the whole concept of heroes, of saving people. Unfortunately, not only were the bigots angry and militant, they were surprisingly well armed. Including a few highly experimental and dangerous weaponry. They managed to free the terrified captives, but there were numerous injuries in the process, and Iceman had been shot while transformed, and had fallen to the ground, several gaping holes, and cracks riddling his ice-form. His mind had registered fear/shock/pain and he had passed out. He had been rapidly moved to the medical facilities, but they were uncertain exactly what to do. He was comatose, and being maintained in a specially chilled room.  
  
Kwannon was a wreck. Her own physical injuries were serious enough to require attention, and had included three cracked ribs as well as numerous cuts and scrapes. She was far more worried about Bobby.   
  
Despite her own injuries and the assorted antibiotics and painkillers that she had been given, she was sitting at Bobby's side as much as she could, hoping that he would recover. It was quite clear to everyone that her feelings for him ran very deeply. It was also clear that if he didn't recover, there was a very good chance that she wouldn't either.  
  
Betsy was able to pull Kwannon away for meals, and could successfully convince her that Bobby wouldn't want her to starve because he was injured. Storm was there as a comforting ear to listen whenever Kwannon wanted someone to talk to, which was often. It was a benefit that Storm would tell nobody what they spoke of, merely saying that she had listened to Kwannon speak of her troubles and concerns, the same as she would for anyone else on the team that wanted a kindly ear.  
  
That was the state of things when Scott, Jean and Rogue came back. Their return was not quite triumphant, and in fact Scott and Jean both had bruises. Rogue was scowling even more than normal, as if something had really annoyed her. Rogue simply entered the mansion, going straight to her room without even a 'hello' to anyone.  
  
Scott and Jean were moving more slowly, their hands linked together. They both looked grim, as if they had discovered something particularly unsavory.  
  
end part 4.  
  
  
Scott decided to assemble everyone and have a meeting to discuss what they had found. There had been distressing discoveries, and Spiral had done a shocking and terrible thing, something that should have been impossible. He felt that the team should be informed at once. The risks of harboring an assassin were high, and would only be higher if they didn't know, if they didn't take appropriate precautions.  
  
The people began to filter in. Psylocke and Logan and Storm and Beast, followed by a very quiet seeming Revanche. Warren entered the room last, shutting the door behind him. Everyone seemed to be present except for Iceman and Rogue.  
  
Frowning, Scott surveyed the room again. "Where's Bobby?"  
  
"Our esteemed comrade is currently in the medlabs. He was grieviously injured on our last mission, and needs time to recover. Whatever it is that you must say will have to be said without his presence." Beast's answer was clearly filled with concern.  
  
Scott glanced at the table, clearing his throat awkwardly at the news of Bobby's injury. "Oh, what exactly happened?"  
  
Storm spoke, her voice filled with concern. "While we were attempting to get some mutants away from a militant anti-mutant group, he was shot three times in the chest with an experimental laser. He's currently comatose. If not for the recent advances that he's made in the use of his mutation, he would assuredly be dead."  
  
For a moment, all Scott and Jean could do was stand there, clearly stunned by the extent of Bobby's injury. The question was also visible that they were trying to figure out how Bobby had survived three laser shots to the chest. After a few moments of shock, Scott seemed to come to the conclusion that it would be best to get further details on Bobby's condition later.  
  
"We got answers from Spiral and Lord Mandarin. We knew there had to be something shady behind the whole Betsy and Kwannon mess, and it turns out that there was. Mandarin's pet assassin was injured, and it was decided between him and Spiral to use Betsy to fix her. So, both unconscious women were dragged into Spiral's shop and altered, physically and genetically to be more similar. As if that wasn't enough, Spiral put the assassin's mind into Betsy's original body, and Betsy's mind into the broken one of the assassin, the asian body. Which means that you, Revanche, are the assassin, the one pretending to have claim to Betsy's name and past."  
  
Revanche straightened as if stung, her face showing something akin to shock. "Are you saying that... are you trying to claim that I am an imposter? That the memories I have are false?"  
  
"Yes. You are an assassin. You killed people for a crime lord, and showed not the faintest sign of regret for your actions. The X-Men were not intended as a haven for assassins." Scott's voice was flat, possibly from exhaustion, possibly from disdain.  
  
Kwannon made a slight gesture with her hand, almost as if she was reaching towards Scott and Jean. Not more than a heartbeat after making the almost gesture, she pulled her hand back as if it had been scorched, and glanced around the room, as if trying to read the faces and feelings of everyone else in the room. Storm was looking surprised, and unhappy. Warren's expression had become closed and hostile, and Beast's was distant, as if lost in thought. What may have been the most difficult for Revanche to bear were the expressions on Logan and Betsy's faces, expressions of understanding. Finally, she looked back at Scott and Jean, drawing herself into an upright, almost defiant posture. "I am going to go check on Bobby. Someone should look in on him."  
  
Regally, she turned and stalked out of the room, her posture one of anger and outrage. She seemed to dismiss the people in the room from her concern.  
  
Betsy frowned, and sent a delicate tendril of thought to Logan. :What is she... do you think that she's really leaving?:  
  
:Not sure on that one. She was only starting to make a place for herself here. Lot of that depended on Drake, and the fact that you and her weren't fighting anymore. I think 'Ro would be able to get over it and stay friends with her. She isn't the same person anymore, and I don't just mean the physical package. But with Scott, Jean, Warren and maybe Rogue so hostile towards her... she just might pack up and go. Go, talk with your sister.: Logan's thoughts were carefully focused, and Betsy could read the concern he had for Kwannon, as well as the vague almost memories that made Logan think that once upon a time he may have been an assassin as well, although he couldn't quite trust his memories.  
  
Betsy followed Kwannon to the infirmary, trying to determine the best way to put her thoughts. "Kwannon. I think I know how you must feel. It doesn't change anything for me or Logan. You still have us."  
  
The look in her lavender eyes was filled with pain. "But everything else has just been poisoned. Before, they had a vague idea of what I had done. Now, they will know details, and they won't be able to pretend that everything is alright. I won't belong here anymore. They won't let me. It's probably best if I go, and that way, they won't have to go to the trouble of throwing me out. I couldn't bear it if Bobby looked at me with that look, the one that Warren had, or the one Scott had. That would hurt worse than the car accident, or loosing my... your... having my eyes destroyed. I remember that feeling, and I think it would break my heart if Bobby looked at me like that. Maybe it's a bit cowardly, but this isn't something I can fight with any of the skills that I have."  
  
"Kwannon... I want to say that Bobby wouldn't look at you like that. But I know that Logan and I don't. If you ever need anything... and I mean anything, just let me or Logan know. We'll be there for you." Betsy could feel the emotions of her sister. Feel the sense of pain and betrayal that Scott's rejection had caused.  
  
"I know. It's odd, considering how things started. I ran a sword through him in an effort to kill you, and now you and Logan are the only ones who aren't trying not to hate me right now. It hurts to much... all the swirling and churning emotions. I can't stay here, I'd probably end up killing someone, and that would just..." With a small shrug, her words trailed off.  
  
She looked back up, a glimmer of her eyes showing the formation of a plan. "I need to write a letter to Bobby. If... when he wakes up, I want you to give it to him. I can't just... go without any sort of explanation for him. Thank you, sister, for being here for me."  
  
As Kwannon left to write her letter, Betsy knew that this would be it. The last night that Revanche served among the X-Men, driven away by the refusal to let her past lie undisturbed. She wished her sister good fortune in whatever new life she tried to make for herself.  
  
end part 5.  
  
  
Betsy could only hope that her sister found some measure happiness in the life that she would make away from the mansion. It was clear to her that Kwannon didn't plan to return, not now, not soon, possibly not ever. Hopefully, she would be able to rebuild her life.  
  
She went to find Logan, feeling the need to be held, to know that he wouldn't leave her, to feel safe in his arms. Maybe she wasn't actually safer there than anywhere else, but it was a very tangible reminder that she wasn't alone in the world, that she had someone that wouldn't desert her. "She's leaving, Logan. She doesn't think that she would be welcome here any more, and what makes it even sadder is that she's so in love with Bobby that it hurts. And she won't be here when he wakes up."  
  
Logan sighed, pulling Betsy close to him. "Does she have somewhere to go? I have a little apartment in Manhattan, she can stay there for a while if she needs to. She probably won't want to make it her new home, although she's welcome to it if she wants. Can you get a hold of her so I can tell her where it is?"  
  
Betsy smiled, feeling relief that her sister wouldn't be out on the streets with nowhere to stay. "Of course, my love."   
  
She reached with her mind, entwining with Logan's, and then their combined thoughts reached for Kwannon. :Sister/Kwannon? We have an offer for you. Not going to try to tell you that you should stay backing away from a fight by leaving, although you are welcome with usfamily/stronger together than apart. If you want to go, Logan/I have an apartment in Manhattan safe place . You'll need somewhere to stay hidden from these people, even if only for a short while. Stay there as long as you want. Might want to put some groceries in it though... not much beyond dry goods, canned food and beer there at the moment. It's yours for as long as you want to stay there. Be safe:  
  
:Logan? Betsy? You... thank you. It means a lot... especially considering. Betsy and i are the same Logan... I skewered in the danger room. I hadn't expected that either of you would want to help. hadn't expected any help yes... I will need a place to stay... thank you this rejection hurts I will need a bit to get myself established out there... stomach is churning... feel sick:  
  
Contact with Kwannon was lost, and they could do no more for her. The mental link between them slipped looser, so that Logan and Betsy were no longer in each others thoughts, though they could still feel each others minds. They also knew that Kwannon now had the address of Logan's apartment and intended to stay there for a while.  
  
"Did you catch that as well? The... murmured thoughts? Where she feels you two are the same... where she feels sick?" Logan's questions were barely vocalized, as if he was still trying to think his question to Betsy. Since she was a telepath, it was enough, she heard the thoughts if not the words.  
  
"That was the subconscious level. I'm sure there were things on that level from us as well. She won't be back. The only thing that might be enough to draw her would be Bobby, and that's not very likely. Especially if he hears a lot about her past... our past? from Scott and Jean first."  
  
"Ah. Hope she didn't get to much... my head isn't the nicest place to visit. Maybe we'll have to try to get a few words in, try to keep him thinking for himself instead of letting Scott do it for him." Logan's voice was harsh, roughened by concern for Kwannon.  
  
"You aren't as bad as you think you are. As long as someone is willing to realize that we all have some darkness inside, you aren't that bad of a mind to look into." She was still holding him, tears sliding down her cheeks for Kwannon's pain.  
  
"We've done all we can for her right now. I think we should go rest, and do what we can to keep things from getting to ugly."  
  
Betsy sighed, wishing that there was some way that they could do more. Wishing that her sister didn't feel that she had to leave the man she loved behind. Wishing for acceptance.  
  
  
end Seeking. 


	5. Sister's Legacy  completed

Eastern Butterfly 5: Sister's Legacy  
  
author: Lucinda  
  
Series: Eastern Butterfly Story #5  
  
rating: pg 13  
  
main characters: Psylocke, Kwannon  
  
pairing Betsy/Logan, Kwannon/Bobby  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Psylocke or any other characters from Marvel Comics. People with more money & lawyers do.  
  
Distribution: please ask first. Psyknife & Luba may have it if they want it.  
  
note :words inside colons: are telepathic conversation.  
  
  
  
  
  
Nothing had been the same at the mansion after Kwannon had left. Scott and Rogue had felt somehow vindicated, as if she wouldn't have left unless she'd been hiding something, while Jean had worried about what changes or potential harm the ninja woman could have already done. Betsy and Logan had been drifting a bit farther from everyone else on the teams since Kwannon's departure. It seemed to be upsetting Betsy a lot, which had Rogue puzzled. Hadn't they been enemies? Hadn't they tried to kill each other in the danger room?  
  
Logan and Betsy would make frequent trips into town, to go out to dinner, or to see a movie, or sometimes just to be somewhere away from the team. Bobby was still in his ice coma, but the damage was slowly healing, with new ice forming that slowly filled in the gaping wounds in his torso.  
  
They'd promised Kwannon to keep her updated on Bobby's health, to let her know if anything changed. Betsy had made copies of the latest notes, and planned to give them to her sister when they visited today.  
  
Kwannon had decided to stay in the apartment. She'd made a few minor changes in the decor, nothing major, but enough that it felt like home to her now. She'd even gotten herself a job, and taught martial arts and self-defense to some of the local people. She seemed almost happy with her life, except for how much she missed Bobby.  
  
Betsy and Logan made their way to the apartment, Betsy holding the Files and Logan carrying a box with a few odds and ends they'd found that Kwannon might want. They let their selves in, Logan still had a key and Betsy had assured him that Kwannon had given them an okay to come in. Seemed she had her hands full and couldn't get the door.  
  
From the sound of it, Kwannon was busily throwing up in the bathroom.  
  
Betsy looked very worried, and rushed towards the bathroom, hoping that nothing was wrong with her sister. Despite the awkward beginnings, the two of them had grown close.  
  
Logan sighed, putting the basket of items down beside the couch, and gathering up the papers that Betsy had dropped. He inhaled, certain that he hadn't smelled any illness in the apartment. No, nothing that smelled of illness or poison, but Kwannon's scent had changed a little bit. He couldn't quite identify what had caused it, but it was definitely there.  
  
After a while, the two women emerged from the bathroom. Kwannon looked a bit pale, but otherwise seemed alright.  
  
Logan nodded towards her, tactfully pretending that he hadn't heard her retching behind the door. "Kwannon. Good to see you again. We brought a few things, and the latest update on Bobby. Short of it is that he hasn't woke up, more ice that looks about the same is slowly growing over the holes, and Jeannie said there was faint mental activity. So, he's getting better, just slowly."  
  
"That's... that's good to know. I wouldn't want anything bad... permanent to happen to him." Her eyes glimmered with tears that she was fighting not to shed.  
  
Betsy put on hand on her sister's shoulder, an effort to comfort her. "You care for him, don't you? And it's tearing you up not knowing how he is. If you want, I can... I can link with you and check on him occasionally. It wouldn't be the same, but... if you'd like?"  
  
Kwannon gave a somewhat shaky smile. "That would help. I just... This way, I won't have to see him look at me the same way Scott and Rogue do. Although... ah, never mind."  
  
"Are you sure that you're okay now? You sounded... throwing up isn't a good thing. Is there a fever? Do you need to see a doctor?" Betsy was trying to fuss over her sister.  
  
Kwannon sighed, sitting in her chair. "I don't like doctors. I never did, and after this whole little complication, " she made a gesture indicating herself and Betsy, a clear reference to their body swap. "It's gotten quite a bit worse. Besides, it will clear up in a few hours, as long as I don't eat anything with celery or red pepper."  
  
"Celery or red pepper? What..." Betsy was clearly puzzled.  
  
Logan frowned, thinking that Kwannon wasn't sick, even if she had been throwing up. She wasn't sick, her scent had changed... And she missed Bobby a lot. Missed her lover... "Kwannon, are you late?"  
  
Both women looked at him, purple eyes blinking. Betsy spoke to him, a hint of puzzlement in her voice. "Logan, you know she wouldn't plan anything on a day she knew that we were visiting..."  
  
Kwannon made a small 'oh' as she understood his question. "He doesn't mean that sort of late. He means... do you think? Could I..."  
  
Logan gave a small shrug. "You don't smell sick, but your scent is a bit different. And I know that before the accident, you and Bobby had a great deal of sex. Sex can lead to pregnancy, so... Were you two using all the precautions? Maybe that celery thing is the result of a little Drake growing inside of you."  
  
Kwannon thought about the question, blushing as she did, and then slowly shook her head. "We did most of the time, but... Most isn't the same as all the time. And I am... late."  
  
Logan sighed to himself, thinking that this wasn't a complication that Kwannon needed. It was enough that she had been forced to leave what had become a home because of the intolerant attitudes of people, but to discover that she was going to be a single parent? Complicated by the fact that the daddy in question was currently in a coma and couldn't do anything to help her... "Let us know if you need anything. Even if it's only to have someone pick you up some bizarre food or for Betsy to come listen to you talk about women things."  
  
Both of them looked at him, faint smiles on their faces. Kwannon chuckled a bit before asking "Logan, what do you know about 'women things' that you think Betsy and I might need to discuss?"  
  
"I know that I figure I'm at least a century old, and I don't understand how women think. I know that women are more likely, especially with you two, to understand what going on in another woman's head. And I know that pregnancy can cause all sorts of mood swings and questions about 'Does my butt look fat?' You might need to talk."  
  
"Logan, how do you know what sort of questions pregnant women ask?"  
  
Logan gave a small, pained smile. "I may not know what goes on inside a pregnant lady's head, but I have enhanced hearing. I've had neighbors, and I heard some of the things coming out of their mouths. Sometimes there were food cravings, or things that didn't agree with them. There was a lot of worry about the way being pregnant changed their figure. Talk about it making their boobs get bigger. And I know that I'm not the best person to make a woman feel better."  
  
Kwannon and Betsy both smiled, amused at the idea of Logan the helpless accidental eavesdropper hearing the details and worries and arguments of a pair of expectant parents. "Logan, sometimes you are such... such a male."  
  
"Yup. Pretty happy about that most of the time."  
  
end part 1.  
  
Eventually, the conversation turned from Kwannon's pregnancy to her recent activities. In addition to teaching self defense, she had also been volunteering with a local medical clinic that treated mutants. She wasn't a medical expert, but she could help in non technical ways, and spend time with some of the patients, let them know that they weren't all alone, that not everybody hated mutants. She felt that it was a partial atonement for her past as an assassin, to help with the healing of the ill or injured.  
  
Logan and Betsy had been a bit surprised, having thought that maybe her experiences with Spiral would have made Kwannon avoid medical facilities. She'd smiled a bit, explaining that she would have to get over the fear eventually, and sitting with Bobby had helped. She refused to let fear rule her life, even a well deserved fear of medical procedures.  
  
Kwannon's reasoning made sense though. Especially since she would be having a baby, and didn't want to go the 'natural method'. No, she definitely wanted the assistance of trained professionals, and a nice dose of painkillers. Her explanation had caused a few smiles, followed by more serious expressions. She was going to be a mother. She was going to be a mother, and the father of her baby didn't know, couldn't be told because he was currently comatose. Sometimes, their lives were just much too complicated.  
  
No matter how much they enjoyed the visit, they could only stay for so long. Reluctantly, Betsy and Logan gathered their coats up and returned to the mansion, hoping for Kwannon's sake that Bobby would get better quickly. Hoping that Bobby's feelings for her were strong enough that he wouldn't hate Kwannon after Scott and Jean had their say. Maybe even strong enough to go after her.  
  
Things at Xavier's were continuing at an awkward lurch. There was a consistent string of crisis, villains attempting assorted diabolical plans, rallies of the Friends of Humanity spewing their anti mutant rhetoric into the crowds, seeking to poison minds with hate and fear. A new danger arose, a powerful group of mutants who seemed intent on ruling the world, their leader yet unidentified, but masking his or her presence with a powerful magnetic aura. There was a split of opinion on whether it would be better if it were Magneto with a new group of followers or if it was an entirely new mutant supremacist.   
  
Bobby continued to make slow improvements, the gaping hole in his chest now closed into a pair of craters instead of empty space. There was detectable brain activity once more, although it was not the normal sort of pattern, being far to heavy on the delta waves. Neither Betsy or Jean or even Xavier could establish any sort of mental contact, though Xavier did report that there was 'evidence that his mind should recover, and was engaged in significant activity', whatever that meant.  
  
Kwannon continued helping at the clinic, soothing the worries and fears of patients, both mutant and human. She had started working closely with the clinic counselor, confiding that she had 'a small measure of empathic ability' and implying that she could offer a bit of assistance with the emotional needs of some of the patients. So, she was learning how to help people heal their minds from terrible traumas, from injuries that would leave them forever changed, from abuse, from the loss of their loved ones. Helping them deal with the fear and guilt and shame that sometimes came with injury. To her surprise, she found the work interesting, if occasionally unpleasant.  
  
It was actually through the clinic that Kwannon first heard the rumors. Whispers of a nasty illness that seemed to strike without warning, causing mutants to get painful purple boils, intense pain, and fevers, usually accompanied by 'destructive rampages', although a few more precise and reputable sources had suggested that it had seemed more like they had either lost control of their abilities, or lost their sense of reality as a result of fever and pain. These rumors were spreading fear, and worry through the medical community. What was this syndrome, and what caused it? Did it only strike mutants, or did it also affect normal humans? How was it passed, and how contagious was it?  
  
There had been a few dozen documented cases in America, scattered through the population centers. It seemed unlikely that there was a climate or zoological base, considering the variety in the places where the incidents had occurred. There were also rumors of a few similar cases in Spain, France and Germany, although there was no official confirmation yet. Kwannon had been very worried, and had shared her fears with Logan and Betsy, as well as taking the illegal step of copying the files and emailing them to Dr. McCoy from the clinic. He was a biochemist and had some training in genetics, perhaps this would make sense to him. If it didn't, he would know people to contact. She had a bad feeling about this illness.  
  
Kwannon was too busy with everything in her life to spend a lot of time worrying about a mysterious illness. She was further along in her pregnancy, and while the morning vomiting ritual had ceased, she had to be very careful about eating certain things at the right times, otherwise she would develop intense headaches and painful cramping, accompanied by dizziness and a feeling of being very cold. The obstetrician that she'd been seeing had called it gestational diabetes, hastening to assure her that after she'd had her baby, which they thought was a girl, although the angle of the ultrasounds had been a bit awkward, everything should go back to normal.  
  
As if anything would ever be 'normal' in her life. She hadn't been normal before, and now that she was a mutant, which she was almost certain her original body hadn't been, things were even less normal. Although her occupations could finally be considered normal, a teacher and an assistant counselor for a medical clinic... much more 'normal' than an assassin or a super hero.  
  
end part 2.  
  
Betsy was sitting in the infirmary when Bobby woke up. He was still ice, but he opened his eyes, prompting the random irrelevant thought of 'do ice eyelids actually make a difference with the light'? She brushed a hand over his arm, a gesture intended to let him know that he wasn't alone. She could feel Kwannon in her mind, excited and nervous that he was awake, wanting to tell him, wanting to see him in person, and terrified that he would hate her.  
  
"Hey... good to see that you're awake." She kept her voice low, trying not to shiver as her breath created clouds of fog between them.  
  
He moved slightly, wincing a bit as he pulled on his newly reformed chest. His voice was low, and had an almost crystalline tone to it, brittle and not quite human. "Betsy... where's Kwan? I wanted to see her..."  
  
Betsy and Kwannon both felt a pang go through them. The task of explaining this one... Betsy took a careful breath, the cold stabbing into her lungs. "There was a bit of... well, Scott and Rogue insisted on going off to poke into Kwannon's past. They didn't like some of what they found, and things were pretty hostile when they got back. I don't know how much you might have talked about her past, but... She's... Kwannon isn't here anymore."  
  
Bobby closed his eyes for a moment, an action that did nothing to conceal the pain in his eyes. "They made her leave, didn't they? I know about her past... all of it. Her jobs, Matsuu'o, the whole thing where the two of you became sisters... We talked about all of it. We were planning on getting married..."  
  
She felt a knot of tension forming inside as he spoke, his voice still weak, the bitterness and sorrow in his voice. He looked and felt so hurt. :Tell him... I won't leave him thinking that I abandoned him!:  
  
Leaning a bit closer, she made just the thinnest metal contact to Bobby's mind. :She didn't run away from you. She only left the mansion. Logan and I have stayed in contact... she wants to see you if you're willing. She was afraid that Scott would be able to turn you away from her:  
  
:She didn't leave me?: Bobby's thoughts were a mix of joy and relief, as if he wasn't sure that Kwannon would really want to be with him.  
  
Betsy felt tears well in her eyes at the depths of his feelings. :She didn't leave you, she still loves you very much. I'll take you to see her as soon as you're strong enough to make the trip.:  
  
:I know you aren't telling me everything...: Bobby's mind was still alert, even if he was still weak, still not able to stay awake more than a few moments. Exhaustion dragged him back into the murky depths of slumber.  
  
Kwannon's thoughts were delighted, and practically glowed with pride for her beloved. :He's observant. How many people would wake up from a coma and be able to tell that you aren't sharing the whole story? I picked a good one...:  
  
Betsy smiled, knowing that Kwannon was right. Bobby had picked up on that, and most people wouldn't have. And the fact that he'd already known about Kwannon's past, and still loved her? That only made things better as far as she was concerned. Bobby still cared for Kwannon, still loved her and wanted a future. She'd also got the impression that he didn't intend to let something as simple, or complicated, as Scott's disapproval prevent him from trying to build a future with Kwannon. Betsy found that absolutely delightful. She had the same memories as Kwannon, and knew just how much her 'sister' needed someone to care for her, someone who wouldn't give up because she mattered, not because she was useful.  
  
"Doctor McCoy? You're frozen patient is doing better. He woke up very briefly, and spoke. He seemed to be thinking fairly clearly, but he was very weak and didn't stay awake for long." She tried to tone down her glee. She didn't think that she needed to explain how happy his concern for Kwannon was, and most likely, her joy would be assumed as a reaction to Bobby's recovery.  
  
Hank McCoy stood up, his blue fur sticking in bizarre patterns. He'd been looking at something on his computer, something that looked complicated and medical. "He seemed coherent? Did he appear to have an awareness of where he was and what had happened?"  
  
"Well... some of what I've gathered came from the surface thoughts of his mind. But he knew he was in the infirmary, knew he'd been injured. He asked me where Kwannon was." Betsy wasn't sure how much to mention. Hank hadn't been one of the people whose hostility had forced Kwannon away, but he hadn't made any particular defenses, instead trying to decipher what had been done to them on a genetic level.  
  
He nodded, running one hand through disheveled hair. "Not surprising, considering how... close they were at the time of his injury. What did you tell him?"  
  
"The truth. Scott and Rogue poked into her past, didn't like what they found, and made her leave." Her anger was easily apparent, simmering just below the surface. "Hank? What are you looking at on your computer?"  
  
Frowning at the screen, Hank sighed. "It is a batch of medical files and related newspaper articles. They were sent to my computer, and I have the suspicion that it was an indirect request for help. There seems to be some sort of syndrome affecting mutants, causing fevers, boils, and loss of control over their powers, with a final result of death. It feels... suspicious, I suppose would be the best word."  
  
:I sent it to him. I found out through the clinic... nobody seems to know what it is. There's been concern on how easily it could be spread, and how bad it's going to get.: Kwannon's voice whispered in Betsy's mind. :I have a bad feeling about it. I'm not sure if it's comforting or not that Hank shares that feeling.:  
  
"Is there any idea what caused those things? Is it some sort of new weapon against mutants? Maybe another mutant who can kill by contact?" Betsy was frowning, her own instincts uneasy about this strange condition. "Was there any sort of common factor to the mutants who died? Were they obvious mutants, or following a particular agenda?"  
  
Shaking his head, Hank replied with concern. "There doesn't seem to be any common factors beyond all of the victims being mutants. No common geographic location or exposure point, no family connection, no shared mutant abilities... And most of them have not made an active presence in the various mutant power struggles."  
  
"I don't like it." Betsy's voice was almost flat.  
  
Looking at her, Hank gave a small nod. "Neither do I. But I must go check on Bobby."  
  
end part 3.  
  
Bobby's recovery was the news of the mansion, a cause for rejoicing and delight. Many of them had feared that he would die, that the damage from his injuries had been too severe for him to recover. But he began to be awake for longer at a time, and could hold brief but coherent conversations. For some reason, he seemed to be very upset with Scott, although there was some confusion over what could have prompted that.  
  
Then one of the students asked if anyone had told him about Kwannon leaving. Reminding everyone that Bobby and Kwannon had been very involved, and while the whole separation had been a few months ago for them, it had been only a short time ago to Bobby that he'd been with the purple haired woman. Scott had winced, figuring that someone must have told Bobby about his trip to learn the past of the mysterious Kwannon. He'd decided that the only thing to do would be to talk to Bobby, to try to make him understand.  
  
Scott had suited up into the warm clothing, and gone to speak to Bobby, the younger man still transformed to ice. "Hey... There are a few things... You're upset that Kwannon left, aren't you?"  
  
Bobby had looked at him, his ice features still conveying mild surprise and annoyance. "Actually, yes. You got rid of my girlfriend, and I'd like to know what makes you think you had the right."  
  
"Bobby, we found out a few things about her past. Things that she didn't tell us, dark and ugly things." Scott tried to start slowly, as if trying to drift into the idea that they'd judged Kwannon unfit to stay.  
  
Bobby snorted, clearly annoyed. "What, like the fact that she'd been orphaned at a young age? Working as an assassin? Her sexual involvement with Matsuu'o? I already knew about that. She told me. What about Xavier's being the place for second chances? We took in a thief and a terrorist, hey, we even had Magneto for crying out loud. How is she worse? How could you expect a telepath to stay somewhere that almost everybody hates her? Remind me to thank you for trying to ruin my life, Summers." Bobby's voice was harsh with anger and bitterness.  
  
"But... why... how... she told you?" Scott sounded flabbergasted.  
  
"Yeah, people talk about their past if they're thinking about getting married. I knew all the various things you think so terrible. Nothing that she's done was worse than Rogue, or Magneto. Second chances, right? Or is it only a second chance if Scott Summers gives his approval?" Bobby turned slightly, his back now to Scott. "Go away Scott."  
  
Scott had left the room, his expression downcast. Maybe he'd been a bit... judgmental? Had he been so busy looking for faults in Kwannon that he'd never given her a chance? Had they drove away the first person that had made Bobby Drake happy? It was with great dismay that Scott was forced to conclude that he hadn't given Kwannon a chance, and they had drove her away. He couldn't even justify it by protesting that she'd been dangerous. Rogue had been dangerous. Magneto... well, that had been the Professor's idea, but still. And Storm... no matter how respectable she seemed now, she'd been a thief once upon a time. He'd... been overly harsh against Kwannon, and it had taken Bobby's anger to make him see that.  
  
Quietly, he began to find the various members of the team, to confess his over judgmental attitude had apparently ruined Bobby's happiness. That Bobby had apparently been talking to Kwannon about marriage. That they'd ruined things.  
  
When all of that was finished, he slipped outside, sinking into a chair, hands clutching the sides of his head in futile effort to ward of a headache.  
  
"Scott. You look like you've been chewed up and spat out." The dry observation came from Logan, the last person that Scott had expected the least semblance of courtesy from.  
  
"I've managed to ruin Bobby's future. I drove away the one woman that he's been happy with, and nobody has the faintest idea where she went to be able to try to fix anything." Scott sounded exhausted.  
  
Logan grunted as he dropped to the ground, sitting near Scott. "She didn't vanish off the face of the earth. Betsy already promised him that we'd take him to go visit her as soon as Hank gives him the medical go ahead to make a day trip. They need to have a few long talks."  
  
"She's not gone? You can contact her?" Scott looked at Logan, his voice almost trembling with the hope of some way to fix the mess he'd helped to create.  
  
Logan plucked a blade of grass, his blunt fingers shredding the blade easily. "She won't come back here. But we know where she is. She's been having Betsy keep her updated on Bobby's condition."  
  
"Can you give me any idea just how bad the damage is?" Scott sounded exhausted.  
  
"Depends on what you mean. I know that Kwan doesn't intend to come back to the mansion, but she's still got her feelings for Bobby. Sounds like Bobby still has his feelings, so the odds are good that he's going to be moving out to be with her as soon as he's up for it. Betsy was pretty disappointed in you over the whole mess, and I don't think she's the only one. You say Xavier's is a place to leave your past behind and start over... then you hunt down all the secrets of her past, fling them in her face, and damn near throw the poor woman out. Not good for the confidence of the students. Can't say how well or bad that will last though." Logan's calm assessment was brutally honest.  
  
Scott shifted his position a bit. "How serious do you think she is about her leaving? Left the team? Left the mansion? Do you think that she'd come back?"  
  
Logan smiled, as if amused by some secret. "Right now, there's about a snowball's chance in hell that she'd be on the team, and it doesn't look promising for the future. She won't come back now, but if Bobby tries to change her mind, she might be persuaded to come back later, not sure on that one. But she's a pretty stubborn woman."  
  
end part 4.  
  
Betsy sighed, shaking her head as she sat in her chair. Logan had found Scott, and apparently Bobby had been less than happy with Scott. A few choice words over their treatment of Kwannon... Yes, Bobby was definitely a sweetheart. All she had to do now was wait for him to be strong enough to go visit Kwan, and... oh, best explain that Scott knew about the relationship. It had certainly taken him long enough to figure it out.  
  
:Logan? What has you smug and irritated at the same time?: She reached out for Logan, wondering what he was doing.  
  
His thoughts were filled with emotion, and carried bits of the images and scents of where he was. :Scott's figured out how much of a mess he's in with Bobby. Apparently, Bobby had a few things to say about Xavier's being there for second chances, and them not giving Kwan one. He's been apologizing. And Scott knows that we know how to get in touch with Kwannon, but he doesn't know where she is or why she won't be back on the team.:  
  
:Because...?: She was a bit curious. If he'd mentioned her refusal to come back, why not explain? Other than the benefit of tormenting Scott just a little bit.  
  
Logan's mental voice was serious now. :Biggest reason is the baby. The way I see it, we shouldn't be telling anyone about that before Bobby knows or Kwan tells them herself. It's not our place, it's the place of the little one's mom and dad. You might want to let her know that Scott - and soon everyone else - knows she didn't vanish.:  
  
:Ohhh, you're right.: Her mental voice conveyed her slightly chastened feelings. :I'd almost forgotten about that. I keep expecting her to tell him, they've been having telepathic conversations for the past couple days.:  
  
Logan's amusement was almost thick enough to taste. :Darlin', if you found yourself pregnant, how would you want to tell me? Thinking it from half the city away, or to my face?:  
  
Well, that was a silly question. :I'd want to tell you face to face, of course... Oh. So does she. And she's probably nervous about it all... as well with this virus.:  
  
:Virus? What's this about a virus?: Logan sounded worried, no longer seeming at all amused. She could feel bits of dark memories stirring, not quite remembered, but shifting, like currents under murky water.  
  
Betsy tried to make sense out of the whole thing, to summarize. :Remember she's working at the clinic? There's something happening to mutants, something making them die. There's this virus that seems linked, and it's giving her a really bad feeling. I picked up the same feeling the moment I saw the files on Hank's computer, and he said something seems off about it as well.:  
  
:Put my name on the list of everyone who thinks something's wrong with that. Any humans come down with it yet? (They'll blame us... blame mutants.) Any mutants have it and didn't die?: Logan's thoughts were serious, and those buried memories were stirring more, shifting, causing waves... emotions... flickering almost images of people coughing, near skeletal men with no hair and haunted eyes... the stench of death.  
  
:I don't have those answers, but they sound like good (terrifying) questions. (Could this be targeted? But who...):  
  
Logan's mental voice was grim, laden with the full force of his own bad feeling. :We'd best try to find those answers. Before we need them.:  
  
A sudden, horrible thought occurred to Betsy. :What if... I hope there aren't any cases of that at the clinic where Kwan works. She could... I want her safe. And the baby.:  
  
Betsy made her way towards the kitchen, having the feeling that she'd best get something to eat now, especially since the more she thought about their fears, the more reasons there might be that she wouldn't get to bed until late.  
  
She sent a small plea heavenwards - Please God let us be simply paranoid... please let this just be a lethal flu variant, nothing the doctors can't handle.  
  
But she somehow thought that God wasn't planning on giving her any special reassurances about the future. They would have to muddle through this hoping for the best, just like the rest of the world.  
  
end part 5.   
  
Kwannon paced the room, adjusting the pillows, brushing tiny specks of lint or dust motes from the furniture. Today, they were bringing Bobby over. Today, she would see the man that she loved. Today, he would find out that he was going to be a father. Which was the whole reason why she was nervous.  
  
Logically, he shouldn't have too many problems with the situation, well, not with her part of it at least. And she'd been talking with him telepathically now for a couple weeks, and he'd been delighted that she'd wanted to talk to him, had missed him, wanted to be with him. He'd wanted to be with her again, even if it meant leaving the team. But then her fears started whispering again...  
  
:Kwannon? We're at the apartment building... you can calm down. Really. He wants to see you again.: Betsy's mental voice sounded somewhat amused and a bit worried. :Besides, getting nervous like this can't be good for the baby.:  
  
She felt herself smiling. It seemed so easy for Betsy to suggest being calm, it wasn't her future that might be shattered in the next five minutes... :I think I have everything ready. Come on up.:  
  
And then they were there, Betsy and Logan islands of calm, and Bobby... She was there, hugging him before he could even shut the door, so very glad to see him, really see him again. Looking up at him, she gave a small smile, and whispered "I missed you."  
  
She was barely aware of Logan and Betsy going into the kitchen, an effort to give them the illusion of privacy. She was far more interested in talking to Bobby, finding out the things that had happened, if he still loved her, if the reaction of everyone had changed his mind at all... She had so many questions.  
  
Reaching out to hold her hand in his, he smiled. "It has made me reconsider a few things. I don't want to try to slow stay on the team and try to fit in romance while being X-Men anymore. I just... I'd like us to try to have a normal life. I can get a regular job, we can be together... ummm... there was something..."  
  
He fumbled awkwardly in his pocket, coming up with a small dark blue box. He flipped the lid up, revealing a sparkling gleam, flickering light dancing over the diamond set in gold. "Marry me? We can stay here until we could afford a house, maybe have a family..."  
  
His words were muffled as she flung her arms around him, kissing him passionately.  
  
After several long minutes, their lips parted, leaving them both slightly breathless, Kwannon curled on his lap with a look of contented delight. "That sounds wonderful. But it wouldn't be a maybe. There's... we're already going to be parents. I'm pregnant, Bobby."  
  
"Wow... you're pregnant... you didn't... maybe face to face is better for some things." He had this stunned look, as if he'd never expected those words, and slowly, the look became a big, goofy smile. "We're going to have a baby?"  
  
She reached out, cupping her hand against his cheek to mask the trembling. "I wasn't sure how else to tell you. There's... I have an appointment tomorrow for an ultrasound, if you want to go and see our baby?"  
  
He leaned over, kissing her lightly. "That would make me very happy. We can be a family... hopefully a happy one. If we get married soon... ahhh... would you like to get married soon?" He was turning all sorts of interesting pinks.  
  
Giggling, she decided to relieve him of his worries. "I would love to get married to you soon. Before I have to waddle down the aisle."  
  
The big smile was back, and his mind was filled with flickering images, half solid daydreams of a house, of laughing blond children playing in a yard, of themselves growing older, still delightfully in love... "We're going to have a family."  
  
Logan and Betsy came out from the kitchen, smiling. Betsy was carrying a platter with some little finger foods, and Logan had some various drinks, which he passed to everyone. "Good for you both."  
  
And so the decision was made, leaving only the minor matters of getting Bobby's things, arranging a small wedding, finding Bobby a job, and setting up a family. Small problems compared to things they'd faced before. They were so happy, so certain that they would be able to make their dreams come true. To have live happily ever after.  
  
end part 6.  
  
  
  
Things seemed to snowball, and the wedding was organized and set within two weeks. Kwannon had a gown, one that fell in loose folds from below her breasts, looking elegant without revealing their growing child. She didn't want anyone thinking that Bobby was only marrying her for the sake of their child, a child that she was almost certain was a girl.  
  
The wedding was small, held in a meadow on the grounds of Xavier's mansion. Partly so that everyone there would know what was going on, and partly because it was a lovely place, perfect for the small ceremony. Kwannon wore a loose fitting gown that concealed the small bulge of her stomach, so that most of the attending people, the X-Men and Bobby's family, couldn't tell. Despite this, Jean was frowning about something, certain there was something going on.  
  
Logan stood as Best Man, with Betsy as the Maid of Honor, and Betsy looked wonderful in her purple gown, while Logan seemed to feel a bit awkward in the suit. The weather was wonderful, thanks to Storm. Storm hoped that the marriage worked well for Bobby, and had arranged the good weather as a peace offering. Her good wishes had been accepted with thanks.  
  
It wasn't until the reception that Jean found a moment to ask Betsy, utilizing her telepathy to ask without causing a scene. Apparently, whatever response Betsy had made wasn't the sort that Jean was looking for, judging from her annoyed glance.  
  
"What's she annoyed over, darlin'?" Logan's voice was a low whisper in Betsy's ear, his arm a comforting warmth around her waist.  
  
Betsy turned, kissing Logan's lips lightly. :She thinks Kwannon's hiding something, and wants to know what it is.: She smiled, the curve of her lips brushing against Logan. :I told her if she was so curious, why not try asking Kwannon herself?:  
  
Logan's smile was broad, and he barely managed to keep the laughter inside. "Bet that annoyed her. Think she'll bite?"  
  
"Probably not for a while. Shall we go mingle?" Her soft smile did wicked things to Logan's insides, and she used that.  
  
The reception went off with only minor problems, a shortage of mixed nuts, the punch bowl spilled once, splashing Rogue with the red beverage, and there was a bit of awkwardness as the X-Men tried to mingle and failed to mix with Kwannon's friends from the clinic and some of her students from the self defense classes. But things went well enough.  
  
Bobby had even managed to shift back to human form for the wedding, so as not to alarm his parents of the guests. They didn't do a lot of dancing, as a sign of his lingering weakness, explained discretely in a manner that hinted at severity without giving any idea how bad the injuries had actually been.  
  
Gradually, Bobby's things had moved to the apartment, so everything was ready for the delighted newlyweds to start their new life together. A life filled with happiness, and hope for the future. They were already working on converting the spare room to a nursery, decorated in white with pale blue and lavender accents. Things looked promising for them both.  
  
They tossed the bouquet, the flowers being fiercely fought over by Jean, Betsy, and two of Kwannon's co-workers, eventually falling into the hands of Rogue, who looked at it with a mix of hope and despair. The garter was much simpler, and was caught by Scott, something that made Jean smile with anticipation and glee.  
  
Laughing, Kwannon and Bobby left the reception, both delighted with the day's events. They had plans for the next few days that didn't involve company, travel, or much in the lines of clothing.  
  
"How did the pair of them meet? You're her sister, could you fill me on in a bit about the woman my son has married?" The almost plaintive question from Mr. Drake distracted Logan and Betsy from their contemplation.  
  
Betsy smiled, an expression intended to put the older Drake at ease. "I've known Bobby for a number of years, so there was that connection. But it was a bit more recently that my sister decided to take a closer look at what I did. That enabled her to meet Bobby. Kwannon hasn't met a lot of nice guys in her past, so... Bobby was just what she's always been looking for."  
  
"But.. what does she do?" William Drake looked like he was trying to sort out what this strange woman that his son had married was like, and how would his neighbors react?  
  
Logan gave a small smile. "Now, she's a self-defense instructor and she works part time at a hospital offering counseling to the patients. She used to be a bodyguard until an accident made her change professions. She's a good woman, and she makes him happy."  
  
:Smudging the details a bit, aren't you dear?: Betsy's thought to Logan was filled with amusement. "Part of the reason why Bobby's recovered as well as he has from his injury was because of Kwannon."  
  
With a small defeated sounding sigh, Mr. Drake asked one last question. "Is she going to be in the same line of work as you and Bobby? That's just... not safe."  
  
"Kwannon doesn't plan to be joining the team any time soon, Mr. Drake. She could, if that's what you're wondering about, but that's not what she wants right now. They were thinking about getting a household, starting a family." Betsy smiled, feeling the relief of Mr. Drake.  
  
Sighing, he shook his head. "I just hope the children are a bit more settled than their father."  
  
As they watched Bobby's father go back to the knots of guests, Logan offered a small smile to Betsy. "Think we've been sociable long enough?"  
  
"Quite. I think it's time for us to retire for the evening. You can help me out of this dress."  
  
What Kwannon had no way of knowing was that during the week of vacation she'd taken for her honeymoon, one of her patients, seventeen year old Teresa Alverez, had broke out in dark blisters, with a high fever that would not go away. She'd known that Teresa was a mutant, that that fact had caused her to be attacked and beaten so badly that she'd been hospitalized. But nobody had though to worry about Teresa contracting the mysterious syndrome that had been affecting mutants.  
  
Perhaps they should have worried.  
  
end part 7. End Sister's Legacy. 


End file.
